


Angelic Whispers

by AppleSeeds



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: ASMR, Alternate Universe - Human, Crowley Has Long Hair (Good Omens), Flirting, Flustered Crowley (Good Omens), Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Kissing, Lonely Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Mentioned Anathema Device, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Oblivious Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens), Touch-Starved Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27843592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleSeeds/pseuds/AppleSeeds
Summary: Crowley runs a very popular ASMR YouTube channel, but is considering applying for a job at a real life ASMR spa. He books an appointment as a client to try out the experience for himself, but becomes completely flustered when he meets the ridiculously gorgeous ASMR therapist, Aziraphale, who will be spending the next hour giving him unrelenting personal attention.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 118
Kudos: 276
Collections: Good Omens Human AUs





	1. Eden's Springs

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know, it just happened. I brought you ASMR Crowley in Changing of the Seasons and the Optician Crowley fics... well, he's back, but this time I raise you.... ASMR Aziraphale. ;-) It's kind of like (Please Don't) Look Into My Eyes REVERSED. It won't be too long, just two chapters!
> 
> ASMR stands for "autonomous sensory meridian response" and is basically a pleasant tingling sensation many people experience in response to certain "triggers", like particular sounds (like tapping, crinkling or someone whispering), or (as is the case for Crowley in this fic) personal attention. Some people are able to experience this by watching videos of people doing certain things or making certain sounds, generally with the "ASMRtist" whispering into a microphone. ASMR spas are places where people go to have these kinds of experiences IRL. Studies have shown that a very high proportion of people who watch ASMR videos do so to help them relax and fall asleep, with ASMRtists saying that someone telling them they fell asleep during one of their videos is the highest form of praise for their work. Some people watch them to feel a connection with someone if they are feeling lonely.
> 
> Thank you to the lovely people who agreed to let me use their usernames for the thirst comments at the beginning of this chapter! <3

_[acsalva_art] The way he’s flirting with the camera I can’t breathe I’m scrolling through the comments now instead of actually watching because I might literally melt he’s so gorgeous *fans self*_

_[rapunzel713] He’s so hot and for what??? I would do anything to be that microphone. Seriously ANYTHING just tell me what I need to do._

_[Oniria_Creation] hnnnhhhhhhh I always clean my phone before I come to bed because I know I’m going to end up licking the screen when I watch him XD_

_[KissMyAsthma] HE’S BRAIDED HIS HAIR OMG HE’S SO GORGEOUS!!!_

_[Hwyaden_ddu] Y’all just thirsting over him but seriously Crowley if you ever read this thank you so much for these videos they have actually saved my life, your videos are the only thing that helps me get to sleep. I’ve had a really tough year and I am so grateful to you for making these videos for us xxx_

_[JoyAndOtherStories] Holy shit I didn’t think it was possible for him to get any hotter!!! How are none of you talking about the EYELINER?? Right that’s it I’m dead now bye x_

Crowley stopped reading the comments at that point. He considered liking the one comment he’d read that said he’d actually _helped_ someone, but decided not to. Then he would feel obligated to read all of the other comments to find any similar messages, and he didn’t think he could face it.

Crowley wasn’t naive, he knew that his ASMR channel on YouTube, Serpent of Sleep, only had such a large following because (although he couldn’t quite understand it) people found him attractive. In all honesty, in the early days, he’d even played up to it. He still did to some extent, making an effort to look good in the videos, donning his demon costume (and, in this last video, as had been noted by one of his fans, black eyeliner) and pretending to tempt his viewers to do various things as part of his _Let me tempt you_ series. He closed the video and idly scrolled through his channel.

**Let me tempt you to stay up late [10.7M views]**

**Let me tempt you to a spot of lunch [9.8M views]**

**Let me tempt you to take a break [12.6M views]**

He had once dropped the ‘tempt you’ and had posted **Let me take care of you** , which had so far amassed 58.5 million views. That’s what this was all about, wasn’t it? That’s how this whole phenomenon had started. People were lonely and wanted to feel as though someone was there with them, that someone actually cared about them. People were expected to absorb and process so much new information every single day, dealing with stress from each and every direction, all in isolation... it was no wonder people had trouble switching off and getting to sleep. Crowley felt a little pulse of satisfaction each time he saw that he had helped someone, but recently he had started to feel jaded about the whole thing. If ASMR, the actual autonomous sensory meridian response, had evolved as a feeling to encourage closeness and connection among social primates, then wasn’t it sad that he was doing all of this sat in a dark, empty room, talking to a camera and a microphone? That in his work, he never actually spoke to anyone at all?

Truth be told, Crowley was lonely too.

He closed YouTube and pressed the icon on his phone for the browser, which opened to the last tab he had been viewing, the website for Eden’s Springs, London’s first real life ASMR spa. More specifically, their job vacancies page. Crowley’s heart rate picked up just thinking about it. As much as he thought he wanted to move on to something where he would actually have the opportunity to interact with people, after so long hiding away in his tiny dark studio, the thought actually made him nervous. So Crowley did the logical thing, he filled in the form on the website detailing his preferred ASMR triggers and booked himself an appointment as a client. This would give him the opportunity to find out more about what actually happened there before deciding whether or not he should apply for the advertised job of ‘ASMR therapist’.

Eden’s Springs was much like Crowley had imagined. Perhaps that was thanks to the copious photos on their website, the owner clearly wanting people to know what to expect in order to help them feel more comfortable. That made sense, after all, their clientele almost certainly consisted primarily of people who were used to experiencing ASMR at 2am while snuggled up alone in bed, rather than somewhere unfamiliar. Crowley had arrived early, and the receptionist softly asked him to take a seat by the window. The reception area was bright white and sparsely decorated aside from a few houseplants and candles, with tranquil music playing quietly in the background. It should have been peaceful, but Crowley’s heart was fluttering in his chest and he had to try very hard not to fidget. Could he actually see himself coming to work in a place like this?

“Mr Crowley?” The receptionist interrupted his thoughts, maintaining the same gentle tone as before. “You can go through now. Room 3, it’s just down the corridor, second on the right.”

“Thanks,” Crowley whispered in response, feeling silly but finding the atmosphere of the place prevented him from speaking any louder. He tread carefully to keep his footsteps quiet as his shoes made contact with the faux-wood floor, proceeding down the corridor until he reached a door with an embossed gold 3 on it. He hesitated for a second, wondering whether to knock. He couldn’t, could he? You couldn’t go around knocking doors in an ASMR spa. Although, you couldn’t exactly go around opening doors without alerting whoever was inside to your presence either, could you? Although the receptionist _had_ said he could go through now...

The result of this internal struggle was the weakest, most pathetic knock to have happened in the entire history of doors. It sounded something like a moth flying into a kitchen window chasing the light. There was next to no chance anyone inside the room would have actually heard it, but Crowley decided to go for it anyway and opened the door, stepping through and quickly, but quietly, closing it behind him.

The room contrasted starkly with the bright, spacious reception area. It was small and dimly lit, the whole room bathed in a soft, red glow. Crowley remembered being asked on the form he had filled in for his favourite colour, and appreciated the attention to detail. There was a... surface, not quite a couch, not quite a bed, although it did look soft, pushed up against one of the walls and covered with blankets and pillows. There was a table next to the bed (Crowley decided to go with that as a description), with a wooden box on top of it. That was all Crowley was able to take in of the contents of the room in the brief seconds after he entered before he became entirely distracted by the other _person_ in the room. The fluttering in his chest intensified.

“Hello,” spoke the softest voice to have ever spoken, “my name is Aziraphale. What would you like me to call you?”

Crowley swallowed, making a conscious effort to ensure his mouth didn’t hang open but entirely unable to restrain himself from staring. He felt like an absolute hypocrite but fucking hell this man was _gorgeous_.

_Oh no. Oh no no no no no._

“Crowley.”

“It’s lovely to meet you Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered. “Would you like to sit down?”

Aziraphale gestured to the bed, and Crowley nodded dumbly, tentatively sitting on the edge of it. Aziraphale sat beside him and smiled, the kind of smile that made Crowley feel like someone had reached down his throat and was pulling his intestines out through his mouth.

_This is supposed to be **relaxing**. Hnnnnnnhhhhh._ Crowley swallowed again and took a deep breath.

“It’s all right to be nervous,” Aziraphale whispered reassuringly. “Have you never done this before?”

Crowley’s mind became a whirlwind of thoughts, and he tried not to think about how closely they mirrored some of the comments he’d read on his own YouTube channel. _He’s so fucking gorgeous... those **eyes** , that **smile** , oh God his **hair**... that **voice**!_ Crowley ended up just shaking his head in response to the question he’d been asked.

“Well, I have the information you filled in for us about the triggers you enjoy, but if there’s anything I suggest or do that you don’t want to happen, just tell me straight away, all right?”

Crowley again offered a non-verbal response to this question, quite proud of himself that he even managed to nod. As well as _creating_ ASMR videos, Crowley did, of course, watch videos made by other ASMRtists, primarily for research, but occasionally for the same reasons other people watched them, helping to stave off his loneliness or to allow him to switch off enough to fall asleep. Perhaps it was because he was used to the person in the video interacting with him without the expectation of any response that he found himself completely unable to speak to Aziraphale. Yes, that was probably it.

“Good. I’d like to start by brushing your hair.”

_Oh no..._ Suddenly everything Crowley had written on that goddamned form on the website came rushing back to him. _Shitshitshitshitshit!_ Aziraphale reached into the box on the table and withdrew a hairbrush.

“Could you take your hair down for me, please? Or would you prefer for me to do it?” Aziraphale whispered. Crowley nodded, which Aziraphale apparently interpreted as an affirmative response to his _second_ question, which of course he did, because Crowley had frozen and made no move to remove his hair tie himself. Aziraphale smiled again, although that isn’t quite accurate... Aziraphale didn’t seem to ever _stop_ smiling, but sometimes that smile would broaden, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and Crowley would have all of the breath sucked out of him instantaneously. How was he ever going to survive this?

Without adequate chance for Crowley to prepare (were such a feat even possible), Aziraphale’s hands ( _his beautiful hands_ ) were in Crowley’s hair, extraordinarily slowly and carefully pulling it free from his hair tie. Aziraphale held the small black band out to him, and Crowley didn’t say a word, plucking it from his grasp and taking the utmost care not to touch Aziraphale’s fingers in the process, slipping it around his wrist.

“You have lovely hair, my dear,” Aziraphale murmured softly, running his fingers through it a few times.

“Ngh.”

Aziraphale tilted his head and smiled fondly, separating a section of Crowley’s hair and then taking the brush to it, slowly and delicately drawing it through the strands. The combination of the feather light touch of Aziraphale’s hand, the sensation of the brush sweeping rhythmically through his hair and the soothing swooshing sound that accompanied it set Crowley’s scalp tingling immediately, travelling lower, shifting into a prickling sensation skittering over his nape. His eyes fluttered closed and he sighed, letting his head droop down.

“Does that feel good?”

“Hhhnnmm.”

_Oh for God’s sake..._

Crowley prayed that Aziraphale wouldn’t say anything else. With his eyes closed it was just about possible for Crowley to focus on the sensation of having his hair brushed without thinking too much about the nature (the gentle, soft, _gorgeous_ nature) of the person actually doing the brushing. Crowley could do this. It would be fine. Just as long as Aziraphale didn’t say anyth--

“Your hair is incredibly soft, it feels wonderful. Thank you for letting me do this for you.”

_Fucking hell._ The tingles spread all over Crowley’s scalp like icy tendrils, this time shooting all the way down his spine and leaving him with a warm glow all over. He was soon broken out of his trance though, although gave no outward indication of it, when he realised Aziraphale was just saying what he had been trained to say. The same things Crowley said in his videos, and the same thing he would be saying to actual _people_ if he ended up working here. Rather than make people feel you were _willing_ to take care of them, you needed to make them believe you _wanted_ to. Part of him wished he’d been able to hold onto that fantasy for more than a couple of seconds.

Crowley’s instinct was to tell Aziraphale to drop the act, that he didn’t need to pretend to want to be doing this and that it was anything more than a job, but he didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. Besides, if Aziraphale stopped playing a role, then what the hell would this actually _be_? Crowley sighed heavily, hoping it sounded like a response indicative of relaxation rather than over-thinking.

“Could you shuffle around slightly please, my dear, so I can get to the back?”

Crowley complied without saying a word, shifting so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed at an angle, with his back towards Aziraphale. At least now even if he opened his eyes he wouldn’t actually have to look at him. The thought of the comments on Crowley’s videos popped into his mind again.

_I am such a fucking hypocrite._

Aziraphale rested another section of hair in his hand and began running the brush through it, again and again and again, taking exceptional care to maintain a steady rhythm with his strokes. After a few minutes, pressure against his shoulder blade alerted Crowley to the fact he had been gradually leaning back, and was now actually leaning against Aziraphale. He gasped quietly and hunched forward.

“I’m sorry!” he hissed quietly.

“Don’t worry,” Aziraphale reassured him. “It’s not uncommon for clients to become sleepy. This is supposed to be relaxing, after all.”

Right, _sleepy_ , because that was what Crowley was feeling, sure. He wondered whether Aziraphale really believed that’s what had happened, or whether it was just another thing he had been trained to say to make sure he didn’t make his clients feel awkward about their behaviour.

“Thanks,” Crowley mumbled. This may have _supposed_ to have been relaxing but every muscle in his body felt tense. Aziraphale continued thoroughly brushing his hair in silence, and Crowley did eventually feel himself relax, being lulled further and further into a trance with each sweep of the brush. Crowley couldn’t have guessed how much time passed before he heard Aziraphale carefully place the brush back in the box before carding his fingers through Crowley’s hair.

“Would you like me to braid your hair for you?”

_Oh God what if he’s just working through everything I wrote on that form? Oh shit I wrote the thing with the feathers! Fuuuuck!_

“Nghh.”

It was unlikely that Aziraphale actually _confidently_ interpreted this response as an affirmative. It was more likely that he proceeded because Crowley had, like some special variety of idiot, written ‘hair brushing and braiding’ on that fucking form. Regardless, Crowley was now experiencing the sensation of Aziraphale’s strong but delicate fingers rubbing against his scalp as he took more time than necessary to separate a section of Crowley’s hair into three even strands to create the braid. Aziraphale lightly tugged on Crowley’s hair as he moved each strand into position, and Crowley shivered, painfully aware that his chances of surviving this experience were diminishing rapidly.

Crowley felt Aziraphale take hold of the braid firmly in one hand, his right hand then appearing in Crowley’s field of vision beside his waist. Crowley wasn’t sure what he was expected to do, racking his brain until he finally realised that Aziraphale just wanted him to give him the hair tie. Crowley pulled it off his wrist and placed it in Aziraphale’s palm, the tips of his fingers brushing against Aziraphale’s skin and sending sparks of electricity shooting up his arm.

“Thank you, Crowley.”

That was only the second time Aziraphale had actually used Crowley’s name, and the sound of his own name in Aziraphale’s voice made Crowley’s stomach flip upside down. That was something you could never get with a video. Well, not _never_ , Crowley was aware of some of his counterparts who recorded bespoke videos for their fans, with a steep price tag attached, which was something that had never appealed to Crowley. The thought of it actually made him feel quite sad, knowing that so many people were feeling so isolated that they would pay a stranger to record a video as if they were speaking to them just so they wouldn’t feel so alone. What did that say about the state of modern society?

Crowley had been so distracted by his thoughts that he had barely registered the sensation of Aziraphale fastening his hair tie in place. Crowley realised he should probably shuffle back around to face him, and when he did so, he was confronted once again with Aziraphale’s heart-stopping smile.

“It looks very nice,” Aziraphale whispered.

“Praising your own work,” Crowley responded reflexively, the most words he’d actually managed to say to Aziraphale, and they were stupid, stupid, _stupid_ words. He groaned internally and chided himself for not just keeping his mouth shut. Aziraphale’s smile grew even more, and the sound of him chuckling softly hit Crowley like a punch to the gut. A _pleasant_ punch in the gut, mind.

“Yes, I suppose I am. It’s not exactly craftsmanship, I’m afraid, but I do believe anything would look good on you.”

“Nhhh.”

“Would you like me to paint your nails now?”

Crowley decided it would be best to not even attempt to form words, or sounds of any nature, and reverted to the relative safety of simply nodding in response. Aziraphale pulled a smaller box out of the one on the table, this one silver, and opened it up on his lap, revealing an assortment of nail polish bottles.

“What colour would you like?” he asked softly.

“Black,” Crowley mumbled in response, and, undoubtedly in accordance with his training, Aziraphale praised his choice.

“Perfect, that will go nicely with your lovely ensemble.”

Crowley felt another prickle of discomfort at how artificial this all was. He was quite certain someone like Aziraphale (dressed in a smart light blue shirt with a brown waistcoat and an honest-to-God _tartan bowtie_ ) wouldn’t praise Crowley’s skin-tight black jeans and T-shirt and his choice of black nail polish in _real_ life. This place was _advertised_ as a ‘real life ASMR experience’, but nothing could be further from the truth. Nothing about this was _real_. Crowley squeezed his eyes tightly shut, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. Why the fuck was this so overwhelming? Perhaps because it was just so _quiet_ (Crowley was pretty sure the room had been soundproofed), tranquil and intimate, and as such, far removed from the experience of most days spent living in London.

“Are you all right, Crowley?”

“M’fine.”

“Do you not want me to do this? We can do something else?”

“No, please. I’m fine,” Crowley managed, holding his hand out towards Aziraphale to indicate for him to proceed. Aziraphale’s smile faltered for a second, but he extracted the black nail polish and placed it on the table, before fastening the lid on the box and placing it safely back inside the larger box. Aziraphale unscrewed the lid on the small bottle and then took Crowley’s offered hand gently in his. When Aziraphale began meticulously painting his nails, Crowley’s skin tingled again in response to his touch.

_Oh God his **hands**... Seriously, how is this man even real? Maybe he’s not real. Maybe I’m dreaming. This whole experience seems like the kind of ridiculous thing my subconscious would create. _

Although, in reality, Crowley knew his mind could never have conjured up someone like Aziraphale. Aziraphale embodied a kind of perfection that was the sum of parts Crowley would never have been clever or creative enough to think to put together.

“This colour suits you,” Aziraphale whispered, applying gentle pressure beneath the tip of the finger he was working on.

“Black like my soul,” Crowley blurted out, forgetting he’d decided to keep his mouth shut. He winced, glad Aziraphale’s attention was fully focused on painting his nails, but was relieved when Aziraphale chuckled softly again. Crowley decided that making a fool of himself was worth it if it meant he got to hear more of that heavenly sound.

“I’m sure nothing could be further from the truth. I don’t doubt that you’re a very nice man.”

“I’m not nice,” Crowley hissed, a little louder than felt comfortable in these surroundings. Aziraphale looked up at him then, his serene expression wavering again.

“I’m sorry, Crowley. Would you prefer if I didn’t speak to you?”

“ _What_?” Crowley challenged, his heart feeling like it was being crushed as he took in the uncertainty in Aziraphale’s eyes. He hated himself for making Aziraphale feel like he’d done something wrong. Aziraphale was _perfect_ , a thought that probably should remain in Crowley’s mind, but... “No. No, you’re perfect. I mean, this is perfect. I’m just... I’m just stuck in my own head, sorry.”

“Then I’m doing a poor job of helping you to relax.”

“No! Stop that! Why are you...?”

“I’m making it worse, aren’t I? I’m so sorry, I should go and see if one of the other therapists is available...” Aziraphale replaced the cap on the nail varnish and moved as if about to stand up. Crowley reached out to stop him, his hand hovering just above Aziraphale’s arm. He couldn’t actually make contact with him, he had signed a conditions of service document at the reception desk that expressly prohibited clients from touching the staff.

“Please don’t leave! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Oh no, you haven’t, not at all, of course not!” Aziraphale objected quietly.

“Why did you think I would prefer someone else?”

“You just don’t seem to be very relaxed.”

“Granted, yeah, but that can’t be that unusual? Surely most people you get here are completely stressed out, you can’t expect that to disappear just like that. You’re good at your job but you’re not a miracle worker.”

“You... you think I’m good at this?”

“You’re incredible,” Crowley admitted, spurred on by a desperate need to restore Aziraphale’s confidence. Even in the dim, red light of the room, Crowley could discern the way Aziraphale’s cheeks became faintly tinted in response to that.

“Oh... oh, thank you.”

“I can’t imagine why you’d think otherwise.”

“I’m not sure I should say.”

“Go on, please tell me,” Crowley whispered softly, reversing their roles as was so easy for him to do, determined to get Aziraphale to feel relaxed.

“Well, I’m afraid I’m feeling rather nervous.”

“Why? Have you not been doing this long?”

“Oh no, it’s not that. It’s just... I know who you are. I recognise you. From your videos, I mean.”

At that, Crowley felt the blood rush to his own cheeks. He hadn’t even considered that possibility. Oh God this was bad. Really bad. _Mortifying_.

“Oh goodness, you look horrified. I really am terribly sorry, I wasn’t sure whether I should say.”

“S’ok. M’just embarrassed.”

“You shouldn’t be! Your videos are wonderful!”

“Nhhh.” Crowley shook his head.

“You’re just being modest. You don’t get to have nine hundred thousand subscribers if you...”

“You know how many _subscribers_ I have?”

“Oh. Oh dear. I... well, yes. I am a rather big fan of your work. I’m sorry, that’s why I’ve been so nervous. I’ve been afraid I would do something to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Crowley wasn’t really sure how he _should_ feel about that, but what he was _actually_ feeling in response to learning that _Aziraphale_ was a fan of his was something quite different from feeling _uncomfortable_. Aziraphale was wringing his hands together anxiously in his lap, and all Crowley could think about was helping him to relax.

“Aziraphale, please don’t be nervous because of me. You’ve been doing a wonderful job. When you were brushing my hair I experienced the most intense ASMR of my _life_.”

Aziraphale laughed breathlessly. “You can’t mean that.”

“I do. I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true.” It was indeed true, and Crowley feared he might spend the rest of his life chasing that feeling but never being able to experience it again. “Everything’s fine. Please carry on, you can’t leave me with just three nails painted.” Crowley held his hand out towards Aziraphale again.

“Ah, no, I suppose I can’t,” Aziraphale smiled bashfully, tentatively taking Crowley’s hand again and returning to his task, keeping his gaze intently focused on Crowley’s hand. “Crowley... may I ask you, what made you decide to book an appointment here?” Aziraphale paused, and realisation flashed over his features. “Oh... _oh_... are you...? We have a job vacancy.”

“Astutely deduced, Aziraphale,” Crowley grinned.

“Are you thinking of applying?” The way Aziraphale’s voice lifted with excitement set butterflies loose in Crowley’s stomach.

“Possibly. Wanted to get a better idea what it’s all about.”

“I do hope I haven’t put you off.”

“Of course not. Do you like working here?”

“Yes I do, very much.”

“Great. Maybe you could tell me about it?” Crowley whispered, watching the blush creep over Aziraphale’s cheeks again, something warm stirring inside Crowley’s gut. Aziraphale nodded and proceeded to tell Crowley more about the spa, continuing to speak in soft, hushed tones, while he painted the rest of his nails. Crowley found it a little difficult to concentrate on what Aziraphale was actually saying, his eyes flicking between Aziraphale’s warm, inviting eyes, his plush lips, his strong but delicate hands, his fluffy blonde curls...

_If I applied for the job and got it, I’d get to work with Aziraphale._

“There we are, all done,” Aziraphale announced softly.

“Thanks, they look great.”

“You’re being very kind to me.”

“So are you.”

“I’m just doing my job, Crowley.”

Right, of course. Crowley’s heart grew a little heavier in his chest. He’d actually started to relax, to feel as though this was real, that they had dropped some of the pretence and had actually been having a real conversation. But no, of course, Aziraphale was still just doing his job.

“They’ll dry quite quickly, but try not to touch them for a few minutes. Are you happy to lie down for a while?”

“Sure.”

Crowley shuffled backwards and pulled his legs up onto the bed, using his elbows to move himself into a comfortable position, wary of getting nail polish on the fabric of the bed. Aziraphale returned the black nail polish to the box, then picked up one of the blankets, draping it over Crowley’s legs.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Extremely, thank you.”

Crowley couldn’t help put grin in response to the beaming smile Aziraphale gave him. He was so fucking adorable, it shouldn’t be legal. Crowley kept his head tilted up so he could watch what Aziraphale was doing. He reached into the box on the table once again, and this time retrieved a long, white feather. Crowley’s eyes widened. How could he have been stupid enough to put that on the form? Oh yes, because it had never occurred to him that he might actually be _attracted_ to the person using the feather, and in fairness, it wasn’t as though Crowley found himself attracted to many people. Aziraphale was just... _divine_.

“You like feathers?” Aziraphale asked softly. Crowley decided it was best to start formulating a potential escape plan in case it was needed, so although he wasn’t particularly comfortable doing so, he decided to lie.

“M’not sure. Thought I should put a range of things on the form, you know, get a better idea of different things. Yeah.”

“Well, let’s try it and see.”

“Yeah, ok.”

Crowley moved to grab one of the pillows from the side of the bed, stopping abruptly when he remembered the nail polish might still be tacky.

“Oh, of course, let me do that for you,” Aziraphale whispered, lifting up one of the pillows and settling it behind Crowley’s head. Crowley leaned his head back onto it and smiled.

“Thanks.”

Aziraphale shuffled up the bed so that he was sitting right beside Crowley, his leg pressed up against Crowley’s arm. Aziraphale brought his hand to Crowley’s face and began lightly trailing the feather firstly over his forehead, then down and across his cheeks. Crowley watched him for a moment, captivated by Aziraphale’s expression of serene concentration and the way all of his attention was focused on _him_. It quickly became overwhelming, and Crowley closed his eyes, sighing as Aziraphale swept the feather over his neck and then down his arm. Crowley’s skin prickled in response.

“Does that feel good for you, Crowley?” Aziraphale murmured softly, his voice a low rumble, and in response to those words the tingling Crowley had been experiencing rapidly morphed into something else, his heart picking up its rhythm and the tingles coalescing deep in Crowley’s abdomen. He opened his eyes and abruptly shifted up onto his elbows.

“You want me to stop?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley’s heart ached once again as he saw the disappointment in Aziraphale’s eyes. He desperately didn’t want him to feel like he had done something wrong, but Crowley couldn’t possibly let him continue, not when it was making him feeling like _this_ , it just wouldn’t be appropriate, so he nodded. “All right, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Crowley rushed to say. “It’s fine. Like I said, I wasn’t sure about that one really.”

“All right. Is there anything in particular you would like to try?”

“Do you have a specialty? Something you’re particularly known for?”

“Actually, yes...” Aziraphale replied, a little uncertainty tainting his voice. Crowley smiled and nodded, encouraging him to continue. “I read to people.”

“Oh, really? That makes sense, you’ve got an amazing voice for it.”

Crowley wondered if he could ever pay Aziraphale so many compliments that he would become immune to the effect of them, because once again Aziraphale blushed, dipped his head and smiled, looking at Crowley through his eyelashes.

“Thank you. It is rather popular. Here people tend to bring something with them they’d like me to read, but online I mostly read short stories or poetry, and I’ve also created videos reading some of the classics. In multiple parts, of course.”

Crowley’s eyes widened like a child who had woken up, thrown back the curtains and seen a thick blanket of snow on the ground. Aziraphale made _videos_. Aziraphale _made videos_. _Aziraphale_. Aziraphale made videos. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. How had Crowley never stumbled across _those_?

“They don’t get anywhere near as many views as your videos do, of course, but...”

“What’s your channel name?” Crowley asked eagerly.

_For fuck’s sake, rein it in!_

“Oh... I...”

“It’s ok, sorry, you don’t have to tell me.”

“No, I don’t mind. I’m just surprised you’d be interested.”

“You really have no idea how good you are, do you?”

That particular compliment earned Crowley not just a blush and a bashful gaze, but Aziraphale actually drew the corner of his bottom lip into his mouth, his teeth biting down gently on it, and Crowley momentarily forgot how to breathe.

“Angelic Whispers,” Aziraphale said quickly, his voice somehow even quieter than it had been before.

“Oh, well now, that’s very apt,” Crowley grinned, committing it to memory. Now he couldn’t _wait_ to get into bed tonight. The lines across Aziraphale’s forehead deepened, and Crowley swallowed hard, afraid he’d offended him. “Please read something for me,” Crowley tempted softly, and Aziraphale visibly relaxed, quietly rummaging around in the box for a moment before retrieving a book.

Crowley lay his head back on the pillow and took a deep breath, wriggling slightly to get more comfortable on the bed. Aziraphale, who was still sitting pressed up against Crowley’s arm, opened the book on his lap and began to read. From the style of the language, Crowley assumed it was something by Shakespeare, and despite having very little comprehension of the meaning of it, Crowley would have been quite satisfied to listen to Aziraphale reading all day and all night, which he knew might actually happen once he found Aziraphale’s YouTube channel.

Crowley zoned out completely, losing himself in the sound of Aziraphale’s voice, but was drawn back to reality sometime later as he shivered involuntarily in response to Aziraphale threading his fingers through his hair.

“Do you like this?”

“I love it,” Crowley breathed, not daring to open his eyes no matter how much he might have wanted to see any effect his words had on Aziraphale. Crowley’s shoulders lifted as he breathed in deeply, sinking down against the bed. This was _beyond_ relaxing. How long had it been since someone had actually sat this close to him, not counting being squashed up against strangers on the Tube? Crowley could barely remember. He _could_ remember, however, how long it had been since someone had tenderly stroked his hair like this. It had been forever. No one had _ever_ touched him like this. No one had ever wanted this kind of intimacy with Crowley.

“Crowley, are you all right?”

“Mmm.”

“You’re crying.”

“What? Shit!” Crowley propped himself up on his elbows and wiped at his eyes. He hadn’t even noticed. “I’m so sorry!” he hissed.

“Don’t be sorry, it happens quite regularly,” Aziraphale reassured him, his hand now resting still in Crowley’s hair, just above his nape. It felt _exquisite_.

“Seriously?”

“People switch off from all of the distractions of everyday life in here. Sometimes that can bring up emotions that are normally suppressed.”

“I don’t think I can do this.”

“I understand,” Aziraphale said softly, closing the book and withdrawing his hand from Crowley’s hair. Crowley’s scalp tingled, and he missed the touch immediately. He could easily become addicted to it.

“No, I mean, I don’t think I can apply for this job. I don’t think I could do this... having to deal with people like me crying and stuff.”

“Why were you crying?”

“I don’t know really. I guess I’m just lonely,” Crowley confessed, lifting his hands and staring at his nails. “I’ve actually been for a manicure before just because I wanted someone to pay attention to me for a while, that’s so sad, isn’t it? I spend my days in a dark room on my own talking to a microphone and a camera. ASMR is meant to be a response to _connection_ , right? But I never actually connect with anyone.”

“Is that why you thought about working here?”

“Yeah, but I really don’t think I could do it. I don’t think I’m actually very good with people. That’s what the videos are for, I guess, gives people a way to have some kind of connection without all the anxiety of having to actually deal with people in real life.”

“I do hope I haven’t made you feel anxious.”

“No, not at all! You’ve made me feel... better than I have in a long time. Thank you, Aziraphale. It just got a bit much. Sorry.”

“Please don’t apologise,” Aziraphale said softly, placing the book back in the box. “We still have some time, is there anything else you would like to do?”

“Can we just talk for a bit?”

“Of course. What would you like to talk about?”

“How did you get into this?”

“Ah... well. I’m sure you’ve heard of ‘ _unintentional ASMR_ ’.”

Crowley grinned. “Yeah.”

“I used to do quite a bit of public speaking as part of my job, and I was alerted to the fact that a recording of one of my presentations had garnered quite a lot of interest online. Apparently people were listening to it to help them to fall asleep. I must admit I was rather offended at first,” Aziraphale chuckled, “but then I learnt more about the phenomenon and realised it was something I had experienced myself, I’d just never really thought about it. I’ve always had a passion for literature, so I started making recordings of myself reading books. It seemed like a good way to give more people access to the classics, as well as offering them a way to relax.”

“That’s a lovely thing to do.”

“Thank you. I found I rather enjoyed it, and now I get paid to do it here.”

“We should do a collaboration,” Crowley’s mouth decided to say without any input from his brain.

“I’m sorry?” Aziraphale’s eyebrows knitted together.

“You know, sometimes ASMRtists team up and create a video together. We could do that.” Crowley felt like he was trying to claw his way out of a hole that just got deeper and deeper the more he struggled. “Or not. Sorry if that’s stupid, I just...”

“It’s not stupid, and yes, I have seen things like that, but isn’t that normally something people do to introduce themselves to a new audience for mutual benefit?”

“Well... yeah.”

“You already have an enormous following, Crowley. My channel is tiny in comparison, I don’t see what you could hope to gain.”

“I’d get to work with you,” Crowley murmured softly, and Aziraphale once again glanced away bashfully in response.

“Oh, Crowley that really is very kind, but I couldn’t possibly...”

“It’s ok if you don’t want to do it,” Crowley interjected. “I understand, sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Just a stupid idea.”

Crowley’s eyes followed the bob of Aziraphale’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed. _Shit_ , he’d made him feel uncomfortable again. Crowley really needed to work on creating some kind of filter between his brain and his mouth. Aziraphale stared down into his lap, fidgeting with his hands again, and Crowley wished he could reach out and take them in his own, or draw Aziraphale into a hug, or stroke _his_ hair, but he wasn’t allowed to.

“It’s not a stupid idea. I would love to do that. If you’re absolutely sure you don’t mind. You really don’t have to be so kind to me. I would hate to reduce the quality of your...”

“Aziraphale, _don’t_. I absolutely want to. It’s going to be brilliant.”

Aziraphale beamed at him, then reached into the box and withdrew a pen. He pulled Crowley’s hand towards him, cupping it with one of his own and writing on his palm with the other. It tickled slightly, but it was also incredibly intimate, and Crowley shivered, mentally adding a new ASMR trigger to his list. Crowley wondered whether that was actually why the pen was in the box in the first place. When Aziraphale released his hand, Crowley gazed down at it, and _holy shit_ Aziraphale had just given him his phone number.

“Call me, if you like, so we can talk about it.”

Crowley swallowed to try to clear the lump forming in his throat. “Yeah, I will. I definitely will.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Aziraphale smiled sweetly. “For now, I’m very sorry to say that our time is up.”

“How do you know?” Crowley asked, genuinely interested, and Aziraphale twisted the box around on the table, revealing a clock that was very discreetly embedded in the bottom corner of it.

“That’s clever.”

“I hope you’ve had a somewhat relaxing time.”

“It’s been brilliant, thank you. Thank you for being so patient with me. I’ll... I’ll be in touch.”

Aziraphale gave him one last beaming smile and Crowley’s heart fluttered wildly.

“Take care, Crowley. See you soon, I hope.”

“You too. It was nice to meet you. Bye.”

Crowley resisted the urge to open YouTube until he got home, then tucked his legs up underneath him on the sofa, pulled a blanket over his lap and opened the app. He pressed the search box, ready to search for Angelic Whispers, then paused, realising there was something else he wanted to see before he opened Aziraphale’s channel: had Aziraphale ever commented on any of _his_ videos? After longer than Crowley would have cared to admit of scrolling through comments (focusing only on the usernames and not actually reading the comments themselves, although the emojis stood out, and there were a hell of a lot of water droplets), Crowley got the answer to his question. _Yes._ It was dated two months ago.

_[Angelic Whispers]: Crowley, I have watched all of your videos and they are absolutely wonderful. You are extraordinarily talented, and the time, care and attention you put into each of them is evident. Every time you speak it is very clear how kind you are, much you care about people and how dedicated you are to your fans. Please accept my most sincere gratitude for the amazing work that you do._


	2. Collaboration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley record their collaboration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, so "I got carried away!" and had to add another chapter. We switch to Aziraphale’s POV here! If you’ve read my other fics, this has definite Changing of the Seasons and The Invisible Touch vibes...

Aziraphale was a professional. Aziraphale had _always_ been ‘professional’, even back in secondary school when he’d carried his books in a briefcase rather than a rucksack, colour-coded his homework diary to help ensure the optimum organisation of his time, and reported violations of fire safety procedures to the headteacher’s office (if the fire door had been propped open by a particularly unpleasant teacher who had been subsequently disciplined, all the better).

Aziraphale was a _professional_ , and that is the only way he had managed to (just about) survive his encounter with the real-life Serpent of Sleep. When Aziraphale had opened the form attached to that particular booking slot and seen the name, he’d known it was a possibility that this would not just be _a_ Mr Crowley, but _the_ Mr Crowley, after all, how many people with that name and an interest in ASMR lived in London? Maybe quite a few, Aziraphale really had no idea, but his heart had leapt up into his throat and his mind had gone blank for a moment. Fortunately, as has been stated, _Aziraphale was a professional_ , and took the time to mentally prepare himself for the eventuality, just in case. As such, when Crowley, the actual _Crowley_ , had walked into the ‘personal attention therapy room’ at Eden’s Springs, Aziraphale had still had the capacity to speak real words, and more than that, to actually assemble them into an order that made _sense_ , which was a rather remarkable accomplishment.

Although it hadn’t gone perfectly, Aziraphale was actually incredibly proud of how well he’d handled the situation. He had spent countless nights in bed holding his phone close to his face (only occasionally dropping it and knocking his nose or his teeth or poking himself in the eye) watching Crowley’s videos. Aziraphale was no stranger to staring into Crowley’s hypnotic, warm, deep brown eyes, or tracing his fingertip over the coils of the snake tattoo near Crowley's right ear. Once the image of Crowley was firmly embedded in his mind, Aziraphale would take a deep breath and place his phone beside him on the bed, snuggling further into the blankets and just listening to Crowley’s hushed, deep, soothing voice until he was finally lulled to sleep.

Aziraphale had no idea how many times he had visualised himself running his fingers through Crowley’s beautiful, sleek auburn hair, and now that was something that had _actually_ _happened_. But as a _professional_ , who had worked at Eden’s Springs for nearly two years now, Aziraphale had the ability to switch off the part of his brain that was normally active in bed at midnight and call on all of his experience and training to just focus on doing his job in order to get through the rest of the day, which is exactly what he did.

At the end of the day, he offered friendly goodbyes to his colleagues and headed back to his flat above the bookshop he owned in Soho. He stopped and smiled politely as he let a gentleman pass him on the pavement before stepping up to the front door and unlocking it. He called out, just to make sure that Anathema, who he employed to run the shop for him, had indeed left for the day, and when he received no reply, confirming he was finally alone, he uttered a word that he had never before spoken aloud.

“Oh, _fuck_.”

It was inevitable that Crowley would be a lovely person. It was evident in all of his videos. In fact, Aziraphale had even commented something along those lines on one of them, but he doubted that Crowley had ever seen it; he must constantly be inundated with praising comments. What Aziraphale hadn’t accounted for was quite _how_ lovely Crowley would actually be. When Aziraphale had become anxious in response to Crowley’s discomfort, he noticed how Crowley’s demeanour immediately shifted, as though _he_ were the one working to try to help Aziraphale relax. For a few moments, Aziraphale had felt as though he were the one receiving bespoke personal attention from _Crowley_ , and it had been like a dream come true.

When Crowley had suggested the two of them actually collaborate, Aziraphale had been quick to try to change his mind. Being alone with Crowley in front of a camera, recording something that potentially _millions_ of people might watch when Crowley posted it on his channel, was too overwhelming to even contemplate. What if everyone saw the way he looked at Crowley and commented on it? What if he made a fool of himself? But in the end, Crowley hadn’t given up so easily, and Aziraphale had finally decided to agree. Maybe it would be torture, but he knew he would never have forgiven himself if he’d passed up such an incredible opportunity just because of his anxieties.

After the day he’d had, it was no surprise that Aziraphale couldn’t get to sleep that night. Of course, that’s what ASMR videos are made for, and watching one right now would probably be a good idea. Watching one of _Crowley’s_ videos, however, would be a _bad_ idea, but Aziraphale did it anyway.

**Let me take care of you** had over fifty-eight million views, and for a moment, Aziraphale wondered how many of those could be attributed to him. He had seen this video so many times that it was the perfect video to help him to sleep, as he could visualise everything Crowley was doing, every facial expression, every time he swept his hair back from his face or tucked it behind his ear, without actually having to watch the screen.

“Hey,” Crowley whispered, and Aziraphale reached up and tugged his headphones off, throwing them beside him on the bed. He sat up and froze for a moment, breathing heavily, hunching forward for a while and then throwing himself back to lean against the headboard. This was going to be different now, now that his brain saw Crowley as a _real person_ who existed in the real world, whose hands Aziraphale had held in his, whose eyes had focused directly on _him_ , whose sumptuously soft hair, with its faint scent of apple shampoo, Aziraphale had felt sliding between his fingers.

In Aziraphale’s mind, Crowley had always been the one providing the triggers, trying to help others to relax. Aziraphale had never actually seen _him_ relax before today. Crowley had looked so peaceful with his eyes closed, and had made the most delightful little sounds of contentment, sighing and moaning softly as Aziraphale had taken care of him. Crowley had even said Aziraphale had given him the most intense ASMR of his life, and somehow Aziraphale knew he could believe him when he’d said he wouldn’t lie about that.

This version of Crowley on the screen was a performance of a character, but the Crowley that Aziraphale had met earlier had been something quite different. Aziraphale would never have imagined that Crowley might actually feel nervous about their session, or that he would ever feel lonely, given all the attention he received online. Crowley had opened up to Aziraphale, had trusted him, and Aziraphale felt honoured, but had to remind himself that he was just doing his job, and that Crowley had paid for that service and had every right to expect his ASMR therapist not to be thinking about his vulnerability while lying in bed with one of his videos still playing on his phone, which had become lost somewhere amongst the tangle of blankets. Aziraphale set it out of his mind, and reassured himself that Crowley was right to trust him, because he would always respect his privacy. He was a professional.

Yes, Aziraphale was a professional, but he wasn’t actually working right now, and he needed something to help him fall asleep. There was nothing wrong with watching this video that he had already seen countless times, so it was fine. It was completely and utterly fine. Aziraphale rummaged around in the blankets to retrieve his phone, unwound the headphone cord that had become rather tangled, and slid the video progress bar back to the beginning. He put the headphones back on, settled back down with his head on his fluffy eiderdown pillow, pressed play and then closed his eyes.

_Hey. You’re not feeling too good right now, are you?_

Aziraphale pursed his lips and breathed out a long, slow breath.

_Well, don’t worry, I’m here to take care of you, ok? You don’t need to do anything, just lie back and relax for me, make sure you’re comfortable. I know things have been tough recently, you’ve had so much going on, but you really are doing so well, I’m so proud of you. You try so hard but you know you can’t do everything all the time, right? You need to let someone take care of you for once. Will you let me do that for you? Will you let me take care of you?_

“Yes please.”

_Ok, good. Would you like me to stroke your hair for you?_

Aziraphale nodded, and pictured what he knew was happening on the screen, Crowley smiling fondly and shuffling closer to the camera, his hair falling across his face slightly as he tilted his head down. Crowley brought his hand close to the camera, trailing his fingertips across the top of the screen. Aziraphale’s forehead prickled and pulsed. As always, it felt almost as though Crowley’s fingertips were actually touching him. Crowley moved his hand further forwards, out of sight of the camera, and Aziraphale heard a familiar soft scratching and swishing sound in his right ear, and his scalp began to tingle.

_You really like this, don’t you?_

“Mmm.”

_I love doing this for you. Your hair feels so soft. That’s it, just relax for me, take some deep breaths. You’re doing so well. Just clear your mind. You don’t have to think about anything right now, you don’t have to do anything but let me take care of you. Everything else can wait. This time is just for you and me to relax together. I love doing this for you. I love taking care of you. You can sleep if you like, I don’t mind. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay right here with you. That’s good, just relax. You’re so lovely and kind, you deserve this so much. You deserve to relax and be taken care of._

The scratching and swishing noise moved to Aziraphale’s left ear. Crowley had a top-quality binaural microphone, although Aziraphale tried not to focus on his thoughts about such things.

_This is so nice. I love just being here with you, stroking your lovely hair. You’re so strong, you know that? I’m so proud of how well you’re doing. I know things can be hard but you’ll get through it, you’ll be ok. I’m always here to help you switch off and relax. I’m always here for you. I really do care about you. Are you enjoying this?_

“Hnnmm.”

_You are, aren’t you? You’re smiling. Good. Well, you just keep relaxing for me. I’m going to stop talking for a little while now, let you switch off even more. But I’ll be right here, I’m just going to stroke your arms now. You like that, don’t you? Good, because I love doing that for you. I know how much it helps you to relax. Try to sleep for me if you can._

Aziraphale’s forehead prickled again as he pictured Crowley leaning down, just out of sight of the camera, visualising him placing a gentle kiss there as the sound of Crowley doing just that bombarded his ears. Aziraphale shivered and blew out a long, slow breath. A soft, rhythmic swooshing sound that seemed to come from slightly below him on both sides helped Aziraphale to imagine Crowley running his hands up and down his arms. He sighed contentedly, and shortly after was fast asleep.

* * *

**Incoming call – Unknown**

Aziraphale didn’t receive many calls on his mobile phone, and certainly not from unknown numbers. He steeled himself for the possibility that this might be Crowley calling, and also for the possibility that it might _not_ be. Either eventuality was bound to wreak havoc on his fluttering heart.

“Hello, Aziraphale speaking?”

“Hey, Aziraphale. It’s Crowley.”

It had been two days since Crowley had visited Eden’s Springs. Aziraphale had wondered whether he would actually call at all, or whether he would think better of the idea of a collaboration once he got back home. Aziraphale certainly hadn’t expected him to call so soon, and he hadn’t even considered what Crowley’s voice, his _normal_ voice when he wasn’t speaking in hushed tones, would be like. The answer, apparently, was that it was absolutely glorious and might actually be the death of him. Aziraphale moved the phone away for a moment and swallowed back the lump in his throat.

“Hello, Crowley. It’s lovely to hear from you.”

“It’s funny, hearing you speak normally,” Crowley laughed.

“Yes, I was just thinking the same thing,” Aziraphale admitted.

“I hope it’s not too disappointing.”

“You have a _lovely_ voice, my dear.”

_Oh my goodness, I shouldn’t have said that!_

“You’re not at work now, Aziraphale, you don’t have to compliment me.”

“Ah, yes... force of habit I suppose.” It was kind of Crowley to offer Aziraphale that avenue of escape. During Crowley’s appointment, Aziraphale had wanted nothing more than to shower him with compliments, and he had been allowed to, he was actually _encouraged_ to as part of his job. He would have to remember that he couldn’t get away with that out here in the real world.

“Right,” Crowley replied, his voice becoming a little distant, as though he’d moved the phone away from his mouth slightly. “So, I’ve had some ideas about this collaboration.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Even from that one word, Aziraphale could hear Crowley’s excitement. He imagined he could even hear him grinning, and Aziraphale’s stomach did somersaults.

“Well, please don’t keep me in suspense.”

“I was actually hoping we could meet to discuss it?” Aziraphale flinched, biting his bottom lip. Meeting Crowley once to record the video would be hard enough, could he actually handle meeting him beforehand as well? Although, perhaps that would be better. Perhaps he could desensitise himself to Crowley... or something. “Aziraphale?”

“Yes, sorry, I’m here, I was just getting my diary.” Aziraphale grabbed his diary from his desk, reassuring himself that such action rendered his words not entirely dishonest, and even flicked it open near the microphone at the bottom of his phone so that Crowley would hear it, the same way he would slowly and deliberately turn the pages of his books in his videos.

“Great, are you free at all today?”

“ _Today_? Oh...”

“Don’t worry if you’re busy! I was just hoping... because, well, I saw the spa was closed on Sundays and...”

“Quite right, I don’t work on Sundays. What sort of time were you thinking?”

“Well, you’ve seen my videos, right?”

Aziraphale grimaced. “Yes.”

“Then... let me tempt you to spot of lunch?” Crowley joked, and Aziraphale’s insides were glowing to hear the enthusiasm in Crowley’s voice. He again moved the phone away and drew in a shuddering breath, closing his eyes to respond.

“Temptation accomplished,” he said brightly, trying to match Crowley’s jovial tone. Aziraphale’s job involved a certain amount of performance, and thankfully he had become rather good at it. He was rewarded by the sound of Crowley laughing on the other end of the phone, and felt the heat rise in his cheeks.

“Perfect. Are you free at one? I know a good place for Sunday lunch, I can text you the details?”

“Yes, one o’clock will be fine,” Aziraphale replied, staring at his diary as if there were any chance of there actually being something written in it.

“Great, I’ll meet you there! Thank you so much, Aziraphale, this is going to be brilliant!” Aziraphale closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, touching his hand to his sternum and urging his heart to settle down.

“I look forward to hearing your ideas. See you later, Crowley.”

“Yeah, see you. I’ll text you. Bye.”

“Goodbye.”

The place Crowley had suggested was a pub called The Dirty Donkey, but Crowley had sent a supplementary text saying ‘ _it’s better than the name suggests I promise’_. Aziraphale pushed the door open and shuffled inside, his ears bombarded with an onslaught of noise: the background hum of dozens of conversations, exuberant laughter, children squealing and the clinking of metal cutlery against ceramic plates. Aziraphale glanced around uncertainly, and was suddenly confronted by a young lady in an apron looking at him expectantly.

“Hi, do you have a reservation?”

“Oh. I don’t know. My friend asked me to meet him here.”

Aziraphale berated himself for his use of the word _friend._ He and Crowley weren’t _friends_. Then he reminded himself that this fraught young lady almost certainly couldn’t care less.

“What’s your friend’s name?”

“Crowley.”

“Table for two at one o’clock, yeah I’ve got it, you’re early though, let me see if the table’s ready.”

She disappeared as quickly as she had materialised, her ponytail swishing behind her as she turned, and Aziraphale clutched his hands together awkwardly in front of his stomach. He knew he was early. He was always early, but today it had been particularly intentional. It hadn’t occurred to him that Crowley would have made a reservation, and arriving early seemed like the perfect way to make sure he would get here first, leaving the responsibility of finding him in this unfamiliar place to Crowley.

“Yeah, it’s ready, follow me please,” the young lady announced from some distance away. Aziraphale nodded, although she’d already turned her back, and had to dodge his way around an excited child running through the pub as he followed her. She gestured to a table in the corner, and Aziraphale took the seat that was tucked up against the wall with a grateful smile.

“Specials are on the board,” she said, pointing at the wall, “and when you’re ready just order at the bar,” she added, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder in the general direction of the bar. “Enjoy!” she added, and Aziraphale admired how well she seemed to be coping with the manic busyness of the pub, working quickly and efficiently but still managing to be somewhat friendly.

Aziraphale turned his attention to the specials board, and perhaps a minute later, saw a figure approaching out of the corner of his eye.

“Hello, Aziraphale.”

“Crowley.” Aziraphale looked up as Crowley flopped himself down into the seat opposite, now particularly pleased that he had arrived early since Crowley had done the same. Crowley was wearing sunglasses, but took them off as soon as he sat down, folding them and placing them on the table beside him. Crowley leaned back casually in his chair, and Aziraphale hoped he didn’t notice the way his gaze travelled down over his smart black shirt, which tightly hugged his chest, before he realised what he was doing and focused on Crowley’s face. He was even more handsome in person than he was in his videos, and Aziraphale was delighted to be able to see him in a brighter, more natural light than the faint red illumination he’d beheld him under on Friday.

Crowley was wearing his hair half-up, and Aziraphale forced himself not to think about the way it had felt when he had freed Crowley’s hair from that band and run his fingers through it, and the soft sigh of contentment his actions had elicited from Crowley.

“It’s busy in here,” Aziraphale said, in lieu of what he actually wanted to say, which was, ‘ _you look amazing_ ’.

“Yeah, it’s really popular, the food’s really good,” Crowley smiled. Aziraphale managed a small smile in return and nodded weakly. His heart was threatening to break free from his chest at any moment and he shifted awkwardly in his seat. “Shit, I’m sorry, is it too noisy in here for you? Working in that spa all week, it must be...”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Aziraphale interjected, shuffling back into the safety of the corner seat, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Tickety-boo.”

_It’s fine, I am just going to wipe all memory of saying that from my mind._

“I like the atmosphere. I spend so much time on my own I like feeling like there are people around, you know? Even if I’m not interacting with them.”

Aziraphale nodded, feeling a sharp pang in his chest, remembering Crowley talking about how lonely he was. Aziraphale was determined to try to be good company, but he wasn’t sure how good he would actually be at that when he wasn’t working and able to play a role.

“I understand. So what would you recommend?”

“Oh, roast dinner with all the trimmings, no question!”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Great!” Crowley sprang up out of his chair. “I’ll go and order. My treat. What can I get you to drink?”

_Crowley is buying me lunch. Crowley is buying me lunch. **Crowley is buying me lunch.** Should I offer to pay? Is that rude? Is it rude **not** to?_

“A glass of house red please. Are you sure you...?” Aziraphale began, but Crowley held his palms up in protest, and before Aziraphale could even blink he had sauntered off towards the bar. Aziraphale had watched this motion intently, and decided that _sauntered_ was definitely the most appropriate word. Until Friday, he had never imagined what the rest of Crowley might look like, beyond what was captured in the frustratingly limiting scope of the camera frame. His tight clothes certainly accentuated his slender body, and the way he walked had drawn Aziraphale’s attention to his hips. He was the very picture of temptation incarnate, and although he had told Aziraphale that he thought that _his_ YouTube channel name was apt, it had nothing on the fittingness of _The Serpent of Sleep_.

Aziraphale took this moment alone to try to compose himself. It was going to be fine. Crowley was extraordinarily attractive, and that was distracting, yes, but Aziraphale just needed to get through this lunch, and then their collaboration. Then it would be over, and he could go back to safely and privately admiring Crowley through the screen of his phone.

“Here you go,” Crowley announced as he placed a large glass of wine in front of him.

“Thank you so much, this really is very kind of you.”

“No, it’s not. This was my idea, remember?”

“Even so. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Crowley smiled, and Aziraphale clutched at his seat cushion.

“So, would you like to tell me your ideas?”

Crowley grinned and folded his arms across the table, leaning forward and positively brimming with excitement. It was infectious, and Aziraphale found himself leaning closer too, trying to stop his gaze from flicking to Crowley’s lips too frequently.

“So you know how I dress up as a demon and do those temptation videos?”

“Yes...”

“And your channel is called Angelic Whispers?”

“Yes...”

“Here’s what I’m thinking. I dress up like a demon, you dress up like an angel, and we role play the angel and the devil on the viewer’s shoulders, and I’m tempting them to stay up late... you know, reading another chapter or watching another video or something, and you’re trying to persuade them to go to sleep! We can do two versions, one for my channel and one for yours, and in mine, I get the upper hand, and in yours, you do!”

“I see,” Aziraphale said softly, caught in the web of Crowley’s exuberance. That was a lot to process. Seeing Crowley dressed up like a demon at close quarters. Having to dress up in a costume himself. And... “ _Two_ videos?”

“Yeah, that’s how collaborations normally work, otherwise how do you decide which channel to host it on?”

“Well, I really don’t mind if you want to host it on your channel, Crowley.”

“Right, sorry, do you only want to do one? Or do you not want to do this? It’s ok if you’ve changed your mind. Sorry.”

“No, that’s not...” Aziraphale began, hating how poor a job he was doing of hiding his wariness, more so for the effect it was having on Crowley. When Aziraphale had been in this situation himself during Crowley’s appointment, Crowley had reassured him by saying he was _perfect_. The sound of those words emerging from Crowley’s lips had been permanently etched into Aziraphale’s memory. He so badly wanted to compliment Crowley now. “Of course I want to do this. I’d love to work with you, it would be an absolute privilege. I’m just not as clued-up on these things as you are, I’m just trying to see how it all works.”

“Right. Ok. Thanks. Thank you, Aziraphale. Erm... so... do you like the idea?”

“Whatever you think is best, my dear. I trust you.”

“Nhhh. Ok. I really think this will be good.”

“I don’t doubt,” Aziraphale smiled.

* * *

Crowley’s studio was smaller than Aziraphale had imagined. It was a box room with a small window covered with blackout blinds and curtains, with lamps fitted with daylight bulbs positioned to create the perfect, consistent light levels in the room. The walls were painted dark grey, and there was a large desk facing one of them, housing a computer with two screens. Behind the desk chair, Crowley’s camera was set up on a tripod in front of a small table, which had Crowley’s microphone, which Aziraphale recognised from the videos, on top.

“So this is where the magic happens?”

“Magic, eh?” Crowley tilted his head and smiled, and Aziraphale wondered whether he might actually be teasing him, and once again found his cheeks burning. It seemed to be something of a constant state in Crowley’s presence, so hopefully Crowley would just assume he had a naturally rosy complexion.

“Nine hundred thousand people seem to think so.”

“Are you one of them? I mean, do you subscribe to my channel?”

“I do,” Aziraphale confessed. It didn’t really feel like a confession, he suspected it was, in fact, rather obvious.

“I just subscribed to your channel too. You’re amazing. I never read anything so you’re introducing me to a whole world of literature. I never get to hear how the stories end though,” Crowley laughed.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” Crowley said softly and sincerely, and Aziraphale’s insides melted. His lips parted and he stared at Crowley for a moment, and it was the strangest feeling, being here with him in this room, Aziraphale felt like he’d fallen through the screen of his phone into one of Crowley’s videos. “Right, well... you can get changed in my bedroom if you like, it’s the next door along.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened at the thought of _Crowley’s bedroom_ , but he managed to regain control of himself enough to smile and express his thanks before retreating from the studio. How was he ever going to survive this? In a few minutes he would be dressed in white robes, huddled up with Crowley in front of his camera and microphone, and he wouldn’t just be listening to Crowley’s hushed, deep, soothing voice, he would be an active participant in the experience.

Aziraphale got changed quickly into his robes (with accompanying fluffy white halo), not wanting Crowley to think he’d been snooping in his bedroom, but he hesitated as he went to open the bedroom door. Crowley, presumably, was getting changed in the studio. Best not to hurry back. So Aziraphale let his eyes wander over the sparsely decorated room. There was a king-size bed against one wall, covered with a dark grey duvet, and two large houseplants on either side of it in the corners of the room. It was tranquil, in its own way. Aziraphale allowed himself to picture Crowley lying in his bed, maybe even listening to one of _his_ videos as he fell asleep. Aziraphale thought back to reading to Crowley at the spa, how he had been unable to resist reaching out and stroking his hair, and the way that Crowley had enjoyed it. He would love to do that here, to encourage Crowley to come into the bedroom and lie down on the bed, letting Aziraphale sit beside him with a book open on his lap...

Aziraphale physically shook himself to clear his mind and grasped the door handle without another moment’s thought, heading back into the studio.

“Oh wow, you look _amazing_!” Crowley grinned when Aziraphale stepped through the door. Oh dear, would the people watching be able to tell how much he was blushing? It was surely a bad sign if he could literally _feel_ how hot his cheeks were right now.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale replied quietly, glancing down and brushing his hands down the front of his robes as an excuse not to have to look at Crowley. A couple of seconds later he looked back up, and of course, Crowley was wearing his demon costume, looking as devilishly scrumptious as always.

_I can’t think things like that. Stop it._

“I’m just gonna go put eyeliner on. I’ll be right back,” Crowley said quickly, brushing past him as he left the studio. Aziraphale stared at the door as it closed behind him and sucked in a deep breath. It would be fine. It was going to be fine. He was just playing a role, it wasn’t real, so he could say whatever he liked and just pretend it was part of his performance. It was fine. Completely fine.

_Oh no, Crowley said I looked amazing and I didn’t say anything in return!_

Crowley returned a couple of minutes later, and one look at him took Aziraphale’s breath away. It was amazing how the addition of a little black eyeliner made Crowley’s deep brown eyes stand out even more. He looked... he looked...

“You look absolutely _incredible_ ,” Aziraphale breathed.

“Nhhhh.”

Aziraphale smiled fondly. He could never get enough of the adorable little sounds Crowley made whenever he complimented him. It was sweet, he would never have imagined that someone like Crowley, someone so handsome and captivating who received the admiration of hundreds of thousands of people, could be affected by anything Aziraphale could say. Perhaps he could find a way to compliment Crowley more during the video.

“Shall we get started?” Aziraphale suggested.

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s do it.” Crowley pulled a couple of chairs up to the microphone and took a seat.

“You should be on the viewer’s left, my dear.”

“Why?”

“The devil is always on the left shoulder. The word sinister has the same origins as sinistral, which means on the left side.”

“You’re really clever, aren’t you?” Crowley smirked, shifting across to the other seat. Aziraphale dropped down into the vacated chair beside him. It was Aziraphale’s turn to struggle to deal with a compliment, and he decided to treat the question as rhetorical. “So I normally try to film in one take, if you have to edit it can make it a bit jarring.”

“Yes, I understand that.”

“So, just keep going. If we need to stop and re-record we can do, but otherwise let’s just go with the flow, see what happens.”

“Yes, all right.”

“Which one do you want to start with? Shall we let good triumph or evil?”

“As you say, shall we just see what happens?”

Crowley grinned and raised his eyebrow, his voice low and rumbling as he murmured, “Game on, _angel_.” Aziraphale swallowed thickly and hoped Crowley didn’t notice the way he shivered. Crowley leaned forward and activated the camera, the red light blinking at them indicating that it was recording. “Ready?” he asked, and Aziraphale nodded.

“Hey,” Crowley whispered and then stopped abruptly, turning to Aziraphale. “Wait, we do actually need to decide which video we’re doing, if it’s the one for my channel I should introduce it, and vice versa.”

“Very well, I’ll let you win this one,” Aziraphale replied with a smile.

“Nhhh. Ok. Right,” Crowley took a deep breath and turned his attention back to the camera, lowering his voice back to a whisper. “Hey. I’ve got a very special video for you today. I’ve got the wonderful Aziraphale with me from Angelic Whispers, and if you don’t know his work, you should definitely check out his channel. I’ve fallen asleep with his voice in my ear every night this week. I’m sure you won’t need convincing after you’ve watched this; his voice is like a relaxation-inducing angelic miracle.”

“Thank you, Crowley, that’s very kind of you to say.”

“See what I mean? So here we are, the angel and the devil on your shoulder, but don’t worry, I’m not going to let an angel stop me from successfully tempting you, not even one as lovely as this. You want to stay up late, don’t you? You want to scroll through and read all the comments on this video. Afterwards, maybe you should watch a few more videos, maybe even read another chapter of that story you’ve been enjoying so much...” Crowley whispered into the left side of the binaural microphone. Aziraphale leaned forward to speak into the right, lowering his voice to a whisper.

“Now, now, don’t do that. It’s getting late, you really should be thinking about going to sleep, my dear.”

“Don’t lissssten to him,” Crowley hissed, emphasising the sibilant in keeping with the name of his channel. “He doesn’t know what’s best for you. I know what you want. I know what will make you happy. You don’t need to sleep jusssst yet. Go on, one more chapter...”

“You won’t be able to fully appreciate anything you read or watch this late at night. If you sleep now, you’ll wake up early and be able to carry on with your preferred activities in the morning, and I assure you, you’ll enjoy them much more.”

“That won’t happen... if you sleep now, you’ll have to get up tomorrow and do other things, and there won’t be time for the things you enjoy.”

“My goodness you really are a _terrible_ influence, aren’t you?” Aziraphale whispered, leaning back slightly from the microphone. Crowley raised his eyebrows and then winked at him, and Aziraphale was just grateful he was sitting down, although he was painfully aware of his cheeks burning again and the uncomfortably fast rhythm of his heart.

“Thanksssss,” Crowley smirked, licking his lips.

They carried on for about twenty minutes, alternating between speaking into the microphone and speaking to each other, until finally, with an off-camera signal from Crowley, Aziraphale yielded, acknowledging that perhaps one more chapter or one more video might not hurt, as long as the content was something the viewer found relaxing. Crowley thanked the viewers for watching, directed them again to Aziraphale’s channel, and they both gave their whispered goodbyes.

“That was great,” Crowley grinned.

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, absolutely! Don’t you?”

“I hope so. I tried my best,” Aziraphale murmured quietly. He had spent the last twenty minutes concentrating so much on his performance that he hadn’t been able to think about anything else, but now he was confronted with all of his self-doubts and concerns that he would let Crowley down, mingled with the memories of a few of the things Crowley had said to him. He remembered him calling him _lovely_.

“It was brilliant, I promise. You’ll see. Right, ready to carry on? You get to win this time,” Crowley winked again, and it was _torture_. Aziraphale had hoped, on some level, he might actually be able to enjoy this experience, but he had been so focused on getting through it that he realised he could barely remember anything that had happened. He hadn’t even had the opportunity to compliment Crowley, although, should he be complimenting Crowley, given the roles they were playing? Aziraphale willed himself to relax, just a _little bit_ , and nodded in response.

Crowley gestured for him to begin, and Aziraphale launched into a hushed introduction, explaining who Crowley was, pointing out that he suspected everyone watching the video would already be familiar with his work but urging them to visit his channel if not, and explaining the scenario. They then proceeded in a similar vein as before, but Crowley let Aziraphale take a more dominant role this time around.

“Go on, do it, you know you want to,” Crowley urged in a whisper.

“I don’t think that’s what you _really_ want them to do, is it? After all, you’ve created all of those wonderful videos and I know you’re aware that they help people to fall asleep. You know, Crowley, I think that deep down you really are quite a nice...”

“Sssshut it, I’m a demon, I’m not nice!” he hissed quietly.

“Whatever you say, my dear,” Aziraphale smiled at Crowley, who was looking at him rather intently. Aziraphale found it unnerving, in a way that wouldn’t have been unpleasant if he didn’t have a microphone in front of his face, so he turned his attention back to the camera. “Now, I’m sure you know really that you should be sleeping right now. Have you been finding it difficult to get to sleep? Is that why you’re watching this? I know it can be difficult, but perhaps we can help you relax.”

“I’m not going to help...” Crowley whispered.

“Oh, but you’re so good at it, Crowley. People love listening to your soothing voice. Perhaps you just need someone to help _you_ relax.”

Aziraphale caught the way Crowley’s eyes flashed, and he wasn’t really sure what to do now. That had been a stupid thing to say, a really, _really_ stupid thing to say, and he wanted to stop and apologise, but they had been recording for a long time now, he didn’t want them to have to go through it all again, and Crowley had asked him at the beginning to try to keep going no matter what. Crowley visibly swallowed.

“Not possssible. I’m a demon. I exisssst in a sssstate of perpetual tenssssion,” Crowley spoke slowly and emphasised each word.

Aziraphale tried desperately to work out whether that was an invitation to continue along the lines he had started or an attempt to shut it down, and racked his brain for something he could say to help him figure it out.

“So, you don’t believe there’s anything I could do to help you relax?”

“Oh, I’d love to sssssee you try.”

Right. Well, that was his answer, wasn’t it? Aziraphale squared his shoulders, but suddenly had no idea what to do. He knew what he _wanted_ to do. He wanted to ask Crowley to turn to his side so that Aziraphale could run his hands through his hair, maybe even down his back, but he was far too aware of all of the people who might be watching. He didn’t have any of his usual props to hand. But he had to do _something_ , after all, he was supposed to ‘win’ this one. With more than a little doubt lingering in his mind, Aziraphale seized the only prop he _did_ have access to. He removed his halo from his head and held it by the headband, sweeping the loop of fluff lightly down Crowley’s cheek. Crowley’s eyes fluttered closed and he sighed, but Aziraphale was immediately confronted with the memory of Crowley telling him he didn’t like being touched with the feather, and was this too much like that? He immediately withdrew the halo and placed it back on his head.

“Perhaps later, but I’m afraid I have a more pressing matter to attend to at the moment, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered, again focusing back on the camera and the microphone. “Please do go to sleep now, my dear. You’ll feel ever so much better in the morning, and you must make sure to set aside time to take care of yourself and to do all of the things that you enjoy.”

Crowley remained quiet, which Aziraphale took as a sign that he was allowing Aziraphale to claim his victory, so Aziraphale continued whispering into the right side of the microphone for a few more minutes, trying to lull the viewer to sleep with his voice. He ended by thanking them for watching the video, reminding them to visit Crowley’s channel, and then said goodbye, wishing for them to awake refreshed and having had a dream about whatever they like best. He smiled at Crowley with as much confidence as he could muster, but his smile quickly faded after Crowley leaned forward and switched off the camera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you're enjoying it so far! <3 Back to Crowley's POV for the final chapter... (if you're reading this after it's complete, you can decide whether to be tempted to keep reading or whether to get some sleep ;-))


	3. Something else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley reads the comments on the collaboration video and tries to work out what to do about his feelings for Aziraphale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As some of you are aware, I have challenged myself to get a mention of the red rope from Aziraphale-as-Crowley's trial into every fic I write, so that will be coming up in this chapter...
> 
> My thanks again to everyone who let me use their usernames for the YouTube comments! <3

“I’m so sorry, Crowley, I shouldn’t have said that, I shouldn’t have _done_ that, I didn’t...” Aziraphale began, looking absolutely distraught. That may have had something to do with the fact that Crowley had simply stared at him after turning off the camera, still trying to recover from what had just happened.

Their collaboration had been even better than Crowley had imagined, Aziraphale naturally slotting into the role he was playing and delivering a captivating performance. In all honesty, Crowley couldn’t wait to watch the recording back. Every time Aziraphale had turned his attention to him, Crowley’s heart had fluttered, but he had managed to hold it together, hiding behind the facade of the character he was playing, that is, until Aziraphale had suggested helping him to relax.

They should have talked about it before. How could Crowley have been so stupid as to suggest just going with the flow? Right, because Crowley was an idiot. Aziraphale’s suggestion hadn’t actually been a bad idea. There were loads of videos out there of ASMRtists doing exactly the kind of thing Aziraphale did at Eden’s Springs but on camera, and Crowley knew that people found it relaxing to watch. His stomach had begun a series of elaborate somersaults when Aziraphale had suggested it, and although Crowley was concerned about how much of his reaction might be evident to their viewers, he had ultimately found himself quite unwilling to pass up the opportunity to have Aziraphale helping him to relax once again. But Aziraphale had only swept that fluffy white halo quickly over Crowley’s cheek and had then retreated, returning his attention to the microphone, while Crowley’s skin tingled all over and his legs turned to jelly, leaving him extremely grateful to be sitting down.

Something in the way Crowley had responded had obviously perturbed him, but in fairness, Aziraphale had dealt with it very well. Crowley had decided to just remain quiet and let Aziraphale finish off the video on his own, but now his heart ached to see Aziraphale doubting himself once again.

“No, Aziraphale, it’s fine, it was good, I’m sorry, we should have talked about that before. It was great, honestly.”

“But I shouldn’t have touched you like that, you said you didn’t like when I touched you with the feather and this was...”

“Aziraphale, stop, please. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Crowley sighed, desperately hoping Aziraphale would believe him, but he didn’t look convinced. There was one thing Crowley was aware of that _might_ work, and that was actually telling him the truth. “Look, I’m sorry. I think I gave you the wrong impression on Friday. It’s not that I didn’t like the feather thing,” Crowley began, hoping a partial truth would be sufficient to set Aziraphale’s mind at ease, “I actually liked it. I _really_ liked it, you were _so_ good and... I’m sorry, it just got a bit intense.”

“Crowley, I’m sorry.”

“Please, don’t be,” Crowley said softly, raising his palms in front of him. “You were amazing. Absolutely amazing. Today _and_ on Friday. I really loved it, I’m so sorry I made you feel otherwise. That felt really nice just now, when you... you know. Just caught me a bit off guard I think.”

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale murmured softly, glancing down at his hands that were clasped together in his lap.

“Please, stop saying that,” Crowley said softly, instinctively reaching out towards Aziraphale, and realising he was now in a position where it would be acceptable to do so, he settled his hand on top of his. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. It was really good, I can tell already, you’ll see when you watch it back.”

“Thank you, Crowley.” Crowley smiled at Aziraphale fondly for a while, not looking away until he saw Aziraphale’s lips quirk up at the corners in return. “Well, I suppose I should be going.”

“Oh... ok,” Crowley didn’t even try to hide his disappointment that Aziraphale wanted to leave so quickly. Was he still feeling uncomfortable? The thought of it made Crowley’s chest ache. He and Aziraphale and shared a brilliant lunch together last week, the pub being so busy that there had been what would normally have been a slightly frustrating forty-five minute wait for their food, but Crowley had loved every minute of it. Aziraphale was just as lovely outside of work as he had been in his role at the spa. Crowley didn’t think he could ever get enough of spending time with him, although, apparently, he was going to have to accept that Aziraphale didn’t feel the same way. “Well, I’m happy to do that little bit of editing, then I’ll send the videos to you to check you’re happy, yeah?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you, Crowley.”

_I can’t just let him leave. Can I? Should I? Should I just let him leave?_

“Aziraphale... Can I... Can I see you again sometime?”

“Of course,” Aziraphale smiled, extracting his hands from beneath Crowley’s and rising from his chair. “When you fill in the form online to book an appointment you can state if you wish the session to be conducted by a particular therapist. Bring a book, if you like.”

“I...” Crowley began, ready to correct him and explain that he hadn’t meant _see him_ as in see him for another appointment at the spa, but he found that he didn’t have the energy for it. “Thanks.”

“May I use your bedroom again to get changed?”

“Yeah, ‘course, go ahead.” Aziraphale smiled at him again, that broad, beaming smile that shattered Crowley into millions of pieces, and slipped out of the studio. “ _Fuck_ ,” Crowley whispered to himself.

* * *

_[IneffableToreshi] I’ve watched this five times and I have only just now regained the mental faculties required to comment. Have y’all seen this?? Aziraphale is such a sweetheart I don’t know what to do with myself! Who needs therapy just give me more of these two together!_

_[acsalva_art] - Replying to IneffableToreshi_

_Did you go to Angelic Whispers? Did you watch the other one???_

_[IneffableToreshi] – Replying to acsalva_art_

_OTHER ONE???? OH GOD TODAY MIGHT BE THE DAY I DIE! Tell my family I love them!_

_[IneffableToreshi] – Replying to acsalva_art_

_Holy shit I just watched it!!! Did you see the way they were looking at each other?? Did you see how Crowley reacted when Aziraphale touched him with the halo?? Do you think they were just playing up to the camera??_

_[rapunzel713] – Replying to IneffableToreshi_

_That wasn’t acting, you can’t make yourself blush like that on demand! This video was PERFECT, there was no way I was falling asleep I couldn’t take my eyes off either of them!! They’re so adorable together!_

_[Oniria_Creation] They’re both so hot this is supposed to be relaxing and I can’t breathe!! /j This was so perfect!!! Crowley looks even more gorgeous than usual!!!_

_[JoyAndOtherStories] - Replying to Oniria_Creation_

_That’s because of the way he’s smiling. I know we all like to thirst over him but OH MY GOD he looked so happy and relaxed I just wanted to smush his face or something. Actually I want to smush both their faces._

_[KissMyAsthma] - Replying to JoyAndOtherStories_

_I think they want to smush *each other’s* faces. Crowley’s hair looked super shiny in this one did you notice?? Tonight I’m planning to fall asleep listening to Aziraphale reading Pride and Prejudice right in my ear! He’s so adorable and omg that VOICE!_

_[Hwyaden_ddu] I just watched the video on Angelic Whispers and Crowley sweetheart are you ok? Why didn’t you say goodbye?_

_[KissMyAsthma] - Replying to Hwyaden_ddu_

_Crowley.exe has stopped working_

Crowley dropped his phone onto his desk and let his head fall into his hands. _No_ , he was _not_ ok, and for the record, his hair looked ‘super shiny’ because he had used a deep conditioning mask the night before because he wanted to look good for Aziraphale. Oh well, at least _someone_ had noticed. Crowley had seen the look on his face when he’d watched the videos back, the way he watched Aziraphale with such unrelenting fondness... it had made him question whether he should even upload it, but after all that work they’d done, he couldn’t do that to Aziraphale, and how would he explain it? More to the point, how would he explain it without making Aziraphale feel like _he_ had done something wrong?

As for the way Aziraphale was looking at him... yes, Crowley had seen that too. But it was exactly the same way Aziraphale had looked at him at Eden’s Springs. Aziraphale had his _work face_ on. It didn’t matter how much Crowley might have wanted to _smush Aziraphale’s face_ , preferably with his lips, Aziraphale evidently didn’t feel the same way. If he did, he wouldn’t have rushed out straight after they’d finished recording.

Crowley weighed up his options. He could do nothing, try to get over it, feel some satisfaction about the role he had played in the 22% increase in the number of subscribers to Angelic Whispers and move on with his life, never seeing Aziraphale again. The problem with that option was the niggling fear that Aziraphale was expecting him to make another appointment at the spa, and might see it as some kind of comment on his skills or a response to the comments their videos had received online, and how would he interpret _that_? A further problem with that option was simply that it meant _never seeing Aziraphale again_ , so Crowley didn’t really want to consider it as an option at all.

His second option was to just book another appointment at Eden’s Springs, but that idea didn’t really appeal either, watching Aziraphale sliding back into his work role and just responding to him in accordance with his training.

Crowley’s third option was to just try inviting Aziraphale out again, although that came with its own risks. Presumably Aziraphale had read those comments on their video... what if the thought of Crowley feeling a certain _affection_ for him made Aziraphale feel uncomfortable? Then he might say it was inappropriate for Crowley to be one of his clients, and Crowley would lose the option of being able to see him at the spa. But going out for coffee was something friends did too, and there was no reason why they couldn’t be _friends_ right? Or colleagues, of sorts? After all, they’d worked together and created something which, although slightly mortifying, had been undeniably successful.

So Crowley did it. He texted Aziraphale and asked him out for coffee, and Aziraphale said yes. He actually said _yes_. Crowley clutched his phone to his chest when he received the reply, then put it down and waved his hands about, wriggled his fingers and paced backwards and forewards for a while, trying to get the nervous tension he was experiencing to dissipate.

Their coffee date-not-date- _maybe_ -a-date was perfect. Of course it was perfect, Aziraphale was there. The man exuded peace and brightness and kindness and he made Crowley feel like he was actually special. Crowley hoped he made Aziraphale feel the same way. He couldn’t stop smiling when they were together, and the conversation flowed so easily that Crowley completely lost track of time. He snapped out of his Aziraphale-induced trance when he felt something knock his foot, which turned out to be a mop wielded by an employee of the café, who apologised but had clearly done it on purpose. The café was empty, and every chair except for those occupied by Crowley and Aziraphale had been lifted up onto the tables.

“I suppose we’d better go,” Crowley murmured sadly. “Can we do this again sometime?”

“I’d like that,” Aziraphale smiled.

So they went out again, this time to a little tea room of Aziraphale’s choosing where the tea came in flowery fine china pots and the cups had those tiny little handles you couldn’t really hold properly so you ended having to stick out your little finger and look ridiculous. Aziraphale ordered the ‘cake platter’ for them to share, which consisted of bite-sized pieces of every single one of the cakes the tea room offered. Aziraphale seemed to be completely in his element, and Crowley once again had the experience of losing time, captivated by the way Aziraphale licked his lips as his eyes darted over the selection of cakes, carefully determining the order in which he would eat them, and the way his eyes fluttered closed and he hummed with pleasure as each new flavour hit his tongue.

Unfortunately, Crowley still had no idea whether or not these meetings could be classified as dates. That is until the fifth occasion, a visit to Kew Gardens, during which Crowley was forced to admit that they couldn’t possibly be dating, because after five perfect meetings, nothing had actually happened.

During their obligatory visit to the Kew Gardens café, they both fell into a comfortable silence as Aziraphale ate his Victoria sponge cake. Crowley caught Aziraphale glancing up at him a view times as though about to say something, but he would then just smile and return his attention to his cake.

“So, do you think we’ll be seeing you at the spa again?” Aziraphale asked eventually, his voice quiet and his head dipped, peering up at Crowley through his eyelashes. Crowley blinked, glad that Aziraphale wasn’t actually looking him in the eye. Aziraphale sounded hopeful, like he _wanted_ Crowley to book another appointment with him, and a thought occurred to Crowley then... what if Aziraphale wanted him to go back to the spa because he wanted to spend more intimate time with him? It had been five date-or-not-dates and indeed nothing had happened, but what if they both wanted something to happen but had each spent the entire time searching for a sign that the other party was interested, both too afraid to make a move? Was _that_ what Aziraphale was doing right now? Or was it an innocuous question, just Aziraphale making polite conversation?

“Do you want me to? I mean, would you be ok with that?” Crowley asked, wishing he’d had the guts to shut up after asking only the first question.

“Of course,” Aziraphale replied, and Crowley was left unsure as to which question he was responding. Hopefully both.

“Ok. Yeah. It was great last time. I mean, _you_ were great. It was really relaxing. So, yeah. Yeah, I will,” Crowley rambled before pressing his lips together and clenching his teeth to force himself to stop talking. Crowley took a sip of his coffee, holding the cup in front of his face for longer than necessary, desperately wanting to hide. He chanced a glance at Aziraphale, who was poking at his cake with his fork, a discernible blush peppering his cheeks.

* * *

At Eden’s Springs, Crowley was once again directed to room 3, his stomach churning even more than last time. He stood with the door in front of him, taking a moment to draw in a calming breath before he knocked, _audibly_ this time, before opening the door.

“Hello, Crowley,” Aziraphale beamed, gesturing for him to step into the room. “It’s lovely to see you again.”

“Hey, _oh,_ nggghhh,” Crowley choked out, instantly regretting what he’d written on the booking form. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but this particular detail hadn’t been something he’d considered. Aziraphale had dressed up for their session. In costume. In an actual fucking _costume_ , and Crowley couldn’t breathe. He had to know how fucking sexy he looked dressed like that, right? He couldn’t just be completely oblivious, could he? Or _could_ he?

_Fuck me! God or Satan just strike me down right now._

“Are you all right, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked sincerely.

“Yeah. Just wasn’t expecting... you look... I mean, sorry... you look great. I... I love your attention to detail,” Crowley managed, forcing himself to take a couple more steps away from the door.

“Well, given what you put on the form, I thought it would be appropriate,” Aziraphale whispered. He was dressed like a doctor or a nurse, one or the other, some kind of medical professional anyway, wearing light blue scrubs with a pristine white lab coat on top. He even had one of those old-fashioned little pocket watches clipped onto it. Perhaps that was to be today’s discreet way of keeping track of the time.

“Nhhhh.”

Crowley shivered, which was likely due to his own choice of attire. He had opted to come to the appointment wearing his usual black jeans with nothing but a tight-fitting black vest on top, to make more of his body accessible to Aziraphale.

“Would you prefer if I...” Aziraphale began, and Crowley internally kicked himself for being responsible for that look of uncertainty in Aziraphale’s eyes again. Crowley’s plan for today was to flirt with Aziraphale, just a little bit, to actually try to work out whether there might be something there. Gaping at him and making incoherent noises couldn’t exactly be characterised as _flirting_ , Crowley reminded himself.

“No! No, you look great. Sorry,” Crowley mumbled, trying to salvage the situation.

“Would you like to sit down?” Aziraphale asked softly, gesturing to the bed. Crowley managed to smile and nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed as he had last time. Aziraphale approached and sat beside him, reaching into the box on the table and withdrawing a first aid kit.

“Would you like to tell me about these wounds I’m going to be cleaning and dressing for you?” Aziraphale asked, his voice light, with possibly a hint of teasing. “You didn’t write anything else on the form, so am I to gather that they are quite extensive?”

Crowley chuckled nervously and felt his cheeks flush. “Yeah, they’re everywhere. I’m covered in them.”

“Oh dear, that sounds terrible. How did that happen?”

“Oh... I threw myself out of a window. Chasing bad guys.”

“That’s very brave of you; I do hope you caught them.”

“Yeah, ‘course I did,” Crowley grinned, his heart beating a fierce rhythm in response to the fondly amused smile Aziraphale was giving him.

“Well, I’m _very_ impressed,” Aziraphale chuckled, his eyebrows briefly climbing up his forehead.

_Is he flirting with **me**? Oh God please let him be flirting with me._

“Why don’t I start with this cut above your eyebrow?”

“Sounds good,” Crowley whispered back, loving how well Aziraphale was playing along with his ridiculous scenario.

“Would you like to lie down or would you prefer to stay sitting up?”

“I should probably lie down. I’m feeling a little light-headed with the blood loss and all.”

“Oh, of course, you poor man. Well, don’t worry, I’m here to take care of you, everything’s going to be fine.”

Crowley drew his legs up onto the bed and made himself comfortable, and once he stopped wriggling around, Aziraphale shuffled up to sit right beside his chest, his leg once again pressed against Crowley’s arm, the first aid kit balancing on his lap.

“Would you like me to wear gloves?”

“Is it ok if I just completely suspend disbelief and say no?” Given that Crowley’s wounds were entirely imaginary, he would much prefer to actually feel Aziraphale’s skin against his own.

“Of course,” Aziraphale smiled. “Just relax for me.” Crowley looked up at the ceiling, listening to the click of the clasp on the first aid kit being opened, followed by soft tearing and peeling sounds. Aziraphale then began smoothing Crowley’s hair away from his face, and Crowley leaned into his touch, tilting his head back and finding himself unable to suppress the contented sigh that escaped his lips. He let his eyes fall closed. “Perfect, Crowley, just relax.”

Aziraphale threaded his fingers through Crowley’s hair a few times and then held it firmly in position away from his face with one hand, while with his other he began tenderly wiping Crowley’s imaginary wound. Crowley tried to focus on each of the sensations he was experiencing: the warmth of Aziraphale and the slightly rough fabric of his lab coat pressed up against his arm, the firm but gentle grip of Aziraphale’s hand in his hair, the cool, damp softness of the wipe being rhythmically swept over his skin, and the slight chill of the air against his exposed arms. Each sensation came together, coalescing into a faint prickling at the nape of his neck that skittered down his spine. Aziraphale was exceptionally thorough, the hand in Crowley’s hair flexing occasionally as he alternated between sweeping motions and light rapid taps with the hand holding the wipe.

“Does this feel good for you, Crowley?”

“Nhhhhmm.”

“And you’d like me to dress the wound?”

“Mmm.”

“All right, hold still for me.” Aziraphale gently pressed a plaster to Crowley’s forehead, taking longer than necessary to smooth it down, then released Crowley’s hair from his grip, running his fingers through it a few more times and then arranging it neatly to frame Crowley’s face. “Well, that’s one done. I think I’d better take care of this one on your shoulder next,” Aziraphale whispered, cradling Crowley’s shoulder with one hand and encouraging him to lift it up, bringing Crowley’s arm to rest in his lap.

_Why did I write this on the form? **Why**? Oh right, because I wanted him to touch me. But why didn’t I think this through? _

Aziraphale ran his fingernails lightly down the side of Crowley’s arm.

_Hhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnhhh._

“Are you comfortable like this?”

“Mmm.”

Aziraphale began sweeping another wipe over Crowley’s shoulder, and Crowley tilted his head slightly so that he could watch, Aziraphale’s right hand still cradling his shoulder and squeezing it gently while he swept the wipe lightly over his skin with his left. Crowley let his eyes flick up to Aziraphale’s face, gasping quietly when he saw the expression of caring concentration on his face. Crowley desperately wished this was real. Well, not being covered in lacerations after jumping through a window, although, he’d consider it if it meant Aziraphale would touch him and look at him like this again.

Crowley rolled slightly onto his side, partly to give Aziraphale better access to his shoulder and partly because he couldn’t handle watching him anymore. His whole body was tingling, and his skin prickled with goosebumps.

“Oh...” Aziraphale whispered, his hand stilling for a moment. Crowley twisted back around to face him.

“What?” Crowley asked softly.

“Oh, nothing, sorry.”

“Aziraphale, are you all right?”

“Yes, of course, I’m fine. You... you have a tattoo on your back,” Aziraphale noted.

“Oh, yeah, wanna see?” Crowley whispered, lifting his shoulder and grasping at the fabric of his vest.

“No!” Aziraphale replied urgently, although he maintained his hushed tone. “No, Crowley, that wouldn’t be appropriate. Not here. Lie back down for me please.”

Crowley grabbed onto that ‘ _not here_ ’ like a lifeline, hoping Aziraphale meant he would like to see Crowley’s tattoo but it wouldn’t be appropriate to do so while he was working. His reaction to catching a glimpse of it had certainly been... interesting. Crowley relaxed back with his arm resting again in Aziraphale’s lap, his internal organs taking it upon themselves to throw a pool party in his abdomen with an accompanying disco in his chest.

Aziraphale again took his time cleaning Crowley’s imaginary shoulder wound, this time fastening a large, fluffy dressing to it, which he attached with surgical tape. He peeled the tape slowly and deliberately next to Crowley’s ear, as he had certainly been trained to do, before fastening the dressing in place.

“I think your arm needs bandaging as well,” Aziraphale whispered.

“I think so too,” Crowley whispered back with a mock pout, eliciting a soft chuckle from Aziraphale.

“Well, don’t worry, I’m here to take care of you.”

Aziraphale ran his fingernails down the length of Crowley’s arm and Crowley moaned softly, his whole body trembling. He closed his eyes, not daring to look at Aziraphale, but Aziraphale didn’t seem disturbed by Crowley’s reaction. He kept running his fingers up and down his arm for a while before cradling it gently and slowly wrapping a bandage around it before fixing it into place with a safety pin. When Aziraphale released Crowley’s arm and rested it back on the bed, Crowley opened his eyes to examine his work.

“That’s... wow that’s actually really good. You weren’t a real doctor before this, were you?” Crowley teased. Aziraphale chuckled.

“No, my dear.”

“So... they train you to actually be able to do this properly?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“The attention to detail in this place is incredible.”

“Details are important when people are trying to relax.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Aziraphale. This is amazing, really. You’re so good at this. Incredible. Absolutely incredible,” Crowley gushed, feeling tingly and light-headed.

“Thank you, Crowley,” Aziraphale smiled, drawing the corner of his bottom lip into his mouth.

_He’s so perfect, I hope he knows what he does to me. I hope he likes it._

“Could you lift up your other arm for me, please? Just drape it across your body, that’s it, perfect,” Aziraphale whispered, although how Crowley had positioned his arm couldn’t have been _that_ perfect as Aziraphale wrapped his hand around his bicep, adjusting it slightly.

_Unless he just wants to touch me. Oh God, is this actually going to happen?_

Aziraphale began cleaning and dressing a whole series of imaginary wounds along Crowley’s right arm, and Crowley made no effort to suppress his sighs of contentment, occasionally opening his eyes to watch Aziraphale work. A few times, Aziraphale’s attention flicked to his face and their eyes locked, and they held each other’s gaze for a few seconds, Crowley trying to convey his intentions through his eyes.

“Nhhhhhhh ’m gonna melt,” Crowley gasped as Aziraphale drew delicate circles over the inside of his wrist with his fingertips.

“What was that, Crowley?”

“Just warning you. If you keep doing that ‘m gonna melt into a puddle and you’ll have to mop me up.”

“I think that’s unlikely, my dear.”

“Nhhh. You’re so good, Aziraphale. You’re so good.”

“I do believe _you’re_ the one who makes people melt, Crowley.”

“Nhhuuhh.”

“I’ve seen the comments on your videos,” Aziraphale whispered conspiratorially, continuing to scratch lightly at Crowley’s wrist. “People even put those little water droplets in their comments, presumably to reinforce the point that they have turned into a liquid.”

“Ngk. S’not... nhhhh.”

Crowley had multiple simultaneous thoughts at that moment, which was impressive, since his brain felt like it had shut down entirely. Firstly, _oh shit he’s read the comments on my videos no no no no no no!_ The two of them had never discussed the specifics of the comments they had received on the videos they had made together, but Aziraphale’s words reminded Crowley that the absence of a discussion on the topic didn’t mean that Aziraphale hadn’t read them. Secondly, _he can’t be serious, does he actually not know what that emoji means in that context?_ Thirdly, _fuck, what if he **isn’t** serious, what if that was flirting?_

“Did you hit your head when you jumped through that window?” Aziraphale asked, and at first Crowley wondered whether he was teasing him about his inability to speak coherently, but then realised he was just progressing to the next part of their role play.

“Yeah, not too bad though.”

“I could check your pupillary response. Do you like light triggers, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, and his voice sounded slightly different, a little deeper, maybe a little slower. Crowley couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he liked it. Crowley swallowed and nodded.

“Sometimes.”

“All right. Let’s try this then.”

Aziraphale fastened the clasp on the first aid box and returned it to the larger box on the table, this time withdrawing a torch.

“Can I sit up?” Crowley asked, wanting to be closer to Aziraphale.

“Of course, however you’re most comfortable.”

Crowley shuffled up, propping himself up on his elbows for a while before he found the strength to drag himself into a seated position, curling his legs up underneath him. Aziraphale clicked on the torch and leaned in close, _fuck_ _he’s so close_ , shining the light into one of Crowley’s eyes, then the other, his movements slow and hypnotic. The light shifted and became a reddish glow, accompanied by the sound of Aziraphale chuckling softly again.

“This won’t work with your eyes closed, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered right into his ear, and that _definitely_ sounded like teasing. The feel of Aziraphale’s warm breath in his ear set Crowley’s skin on fire, and he dipped his head down, taking a series of deep breaths.

“Just give me a minute.”

“Did that feel good?”

“Amazing. I just...” Crowley tried, opening his eyes when he heard another click, the light fading.

“Would you like to try something else? Are there any auditory triggers that work for you?”

“Just your voice,” Crowley murmured softly, looking Aziraphale right in the eye. Aziraphale blushed and diverted his attention away, returning the torch to the box.

“Crowley, you’re very kind.”

“S’true.”

“Would you like me to read to you then?”

“Could you just talk to me?”

“What would you like me to talk about?”

“Anything. Please, I just want to listen to you.”

“All right.”

Crowley lay back down on the bed and closed his eyes, this time holding his arms across his body so that when Aziraphale shuffled up beside him the surface area of contact between them would be greater. He tried not to think about how ridiculous such a scheme was, but was proud to have come up with it when he felt Aziraphale’s warmth pressed up against his side. Crowley closed his eyes, and smiled widely when he felt Aziraphale’s hand return to his hair, tenderly and repetitively sweeping it away from his forehead.

“You know I’m here for you, don’t you Crowley? I’m here to help you relax. You can just switch off now, just focus on my voice, let everything else drift away.”

Crowley took a deep breath and allowed himself to fall into an almost meditative trance under the influence of Aziraphale’s voice, feeling like he was floating, bathed in a warm glow. He wasn’t even really aware of what Aziraphale was saying until he heard him repeating his name.

“Crowley? Crowley?”

“Mmmmrrhh.”

“Did you fall asleep?”

“Nhhh. Maybe. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m flattered. I’m very sorry to wake you but our time is almost up. Would you like me to remove your dressings now?”

“Oh... yeah, thanks,” Crowley mumbled, an ache building in his chest. He didn’t want this to be over. He was annoyed with himself for falling asleep, although it couldn’t have been for long, if anything he’d felt like he’d been drifting in and out of consciousness, suspended in an in-between world where nothing existed but the soothing sound of Aziraphale’s voice.

Crowley sighed as Aziraphale began unwinding the bandage from his arm and delicately peeling off his dressings. When he removed the plaster from Crowley’s forehead, Aziraphale ran his hand through his hair one last time, and Crowley shivered.

“Thanks again, Aziraphale. That was perfect. Thank you so much," he mumbled as he stood and took a few steps towards the door.

“It was absolutely my pleasure.”

Crowley hugged his arms across his chest and rubbed his hands up and down them. “Well, have a good day. See you soon. Bye.”

“Take care, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered, and Crowley moved to open the door. “Oh, Crowley?” Aziraphale solicited his attention, and Crowley turned back to face him. “I was wondering... next time we meet... since I’ve had the privilege of visiting your studio, would you be interested in seeing where I record my videos?”

Crowley had no hope of restraining the grin that spread over his face. “Are you kidding? Aziraphale, I’d _love_ that.”

“Oh. Oh, good. All right. I’ll... I’ll text you.”

“Ok. Great. Take care.”

“You too. Goodbye, Crowley.”

* * *

It was a bookshop. The address Aziraphale had texted him was a bookshop in Soho. When watching Aziraphale’s videos Crowley had assumed he had constructed a set of sorts, but no, apparently it was a real place, and Crowley was about to see it. Aziraphale had asked him to meet him at six o’clock, just after the shop closed for the day.

Crowley stood in front of the door and glanced up. The bookshop looked like it might have been here for a couple of hundred years at least, and it already felt like the perfect place for Aziraphale to record his videos. Crowley stepped up to the door and knocked, having to wait only a few seconds before he heard the latch turn, the door opening to reveal Aziraphale standing behind it.

“Hello, Crowley! Please do come in.”

“Wow, this place is _great_ ,” Crowley praised, taking in the floor-to-ceiling shelves of ancient-looking books and the tables and other surfaces covered with books, papers and various artefacts that all added to the cosy, nostalgic ambience.

“Thank you, I am rather proud of it.”

“Wait... do you... do you _own_ this place?”

“I do. I live upstairs,” Aziraphale smiled, pointing up towards the ceiling. “I employ someone to manage the shop for me, of course. In fact, Anathema is still here, do you mind if I have a quick word with her?”

“No, of course not.”

“Just go through to the backroom,” Aziraphale said brightly, gesturing with his arm. “I’ll be with you shortly.”

Crowley nodded, trailing his fingertips along one of the bookshelves as he headed in the direction Aziraphale had indicated. He grinned when he stepped into the room, recognising his surroundings immediately, including the armchair in which Aziraphale sat to read. There was a small sofa opposite, covered with throw blankets. Now Crowley would be able to imagine himself lying on the sofa while he watched Aziraphale’s videos. On the table, there was a box that reminded Crowley of the box in room 3 at Eden’s Springs. He leaned forward and took a little peek inside, furrowing his brow when he saw the strange collection of objects therein.

Crowley spun around when he heard the sound of a curtain swishing closed behind him, closing off the backroom from the rest of the shop.

“Er... sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy,” Crowley mumbled sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“That’s quite all right, I don’t mind.”

“Are these ASMR props?”

“Not quite,” Aziraphale chuckled, stepping across the room to join him and reaching his hand into the box, retrieving a length of red rope. Crowley raised his eyebrow. “Magic tricks, my dear. It’s a hobby of mine. Would you like me to show you?”

“Oh hell yes,” Crowley grinned.

“Put your wrists together for me.”

“Are you going to tie me up?”

“Just for a moment,” Aziraphale said innocently, looking at Crowley expectantly. Crowley’s heart started beating faster as his eyes flicked between Aziraphale and the rope.

“Nhhh... ok.” Crowley held his hands out in front of him with his wrists pinned together, and Aziraphale carefully wound the rope several times around them, tying it into a tight knot.

“Now try to get out,” Aziraphale smiled, with a slightly devillish glint in his eye. Crowley wriggled around and tried to slip his hands free from the rope, but it was hopeless. Not that he was particularly complaining. “Want me to set you free?” Aziraphale asked cheekily, clicking his fingers above the rope and then taking a section of it between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it upwards and instantly freeing Crowley’s hands.

“What the...? _What_? _How_? Oh my God that was incredible!” Crowley gawped, completely awestruck.

“I’m glad you liked it,” Aziraphale drawled with a wink, and Crowley quickly forgot his fascination with the magic trick, swallowing down the lump that had formed at the back of his throat. _That_ was flirting. That was _definitely_ flirting. “Well, make yourself at home. Would you like me to take your jacket?”

“Oh, thanks,” Crowley mumbled, extracting himself awkwardly from his jacket and handing it to Aziraphale, who took it and hung it on one of the hooks on his coat stand. Crowley took a seat on the sofa, and Aziraphale joined him shortly after. “So in your case, this is _actually_ where the magic happens,” Crowley chuckled nervously, an attempt at a joke that would perhaps have been funnier if he’d been quick-witted enough to think of it straight after Aziraphale had done his magic trick.

“I suppose it is,” Aziraphale smiled obligingly. “I could read to you _now_ , if you’d like?”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course, if you’d enjoy it.”

“I’d love that, but isn’t... isn’t that like being at work?”

“No, Crowley. It’s nothing like being at work. Would you like to lie down? You can rest your head in my lap if you’d like.”

“Nhhhhh... erm...” Crowley desperately struggled for words, but remembering how quickly Aziraphale could succumb to uncertainty, he forced himself to nod. “Yeah. Yes please.”

Aziraphale smiled and took a deep breath, leaning back against the sofa. Crowley slipped off his shoes as quickly as he could and then lay back on the sofa, steeling himself as he settled his head into Aziraphale’s lap, gazing up at him. This wasn’t Aziraphale just doing his job... this was... _something else_. Crowley’s heart was beating wildly with anticipation, and he tried to breathe slowly and deeply to steady it.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Extremely,” Crowley purred, earning him one of Aziraphale’s adorable little blushing smiles. Aziraphale reached over to the small table beside the sofa, picking up a book, which he settled on the armrest, holding it open with one hand while the other found its way into Crowley’s hair, stroking it tenderly.

“Is this all right?”

“ _Amazing_ ,” Crowley replied instantly, hoping to encourage Aziraphale to continue. Crowley closed his eyes and Aziraphale began reading, the movement of his hands less rhythmic and deliberate than it had been at the spa, like he was more relaxed and touching Crowley almost absentmindedly. Aziraphale was reading poetry, nothing that Crowley recognised, unsurprisingly, but he was barely paying attention to the words as Aziraphale’s hand slipped lower, grazing over his neck and then gliding up and down over his bicep. “May I touch _you_?” Crowley whispered after a while, his face turned down slightly towards the floor.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

Crowley’s heart leapt up into his throat and he lifted his head up from Aziraphale’s lap. “Really?” he checked, and Aziraphale nodded. “Nhhh ok... would you... would you like to lie down with me?”

Aziraphale responded by bending down to untie and remove his shoes before lifting his legs up onto the sofa, the two of them shuffling around until they found a comfortable position, with Crowley pressed up against the back of the sofa with Aziraphale beside him, Crowley’s head resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder and Aziraphale’s arm draped around him.

Crowley snuggled closer to Aziraphale and reached his hand up to touch his hair, carding his fingers through the short, soft curls. Aziraphale hummed with pleasure.

“Do you like that, angel?” Crowley bit his tongue, but Aziraphale didn’t give any indication that he was bothered by the pet name.

“That feels lovely, Crowley, thank you. I... I’ve imagined you doing this for me,” Aziraphale whispered, sounding a little breathless. Crowley nuzzled at his shoulder, running his hands through Aziraphale’s hair more confidently.

“You should have asked me. You can ask me for anything.”

Aziraphale didn’t respond, but sighed and leaned into Crowley’s touch, and Crowley rolled more onto his side, intertwining their legs. Aziraphale took the opportunity to run his hand up and down over Crowley’s back, his fingertips grazing over the skin just above Crowley’s waistband where his shirt had ridden up slightly.

“Could I see your tattoo?” Aziraphale asked quietly, now tracing his fingertips over that patch of skin beneath the hem of Crowley’s shirt. Crowley grinned against his shoulder.

“Yeah, of course.” Crowley shuffled up and pulled his shirt over his head, twisting so that his back was towards Aziraphale, who propped himself up as well.

“Oh, that’s... stunning.” Aziraphale reached out and lightly traced his fingertips over the outline of Crowley’s tattoo, a pair of black raven’s wings across his back. Crowley shuddered and gasped. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes...” Crowley panted. “Yes... amazing...”

“Tingly?” Aziraphale teased.

“Yeah,” Crowley choked, turning to face Aziraphale. “Different kind of tingly though,” he admitted, his breaths rapid and shallow as he anxiously watched Aziraphale, waiting to see how he would respond. Aziraphale’s eyes flashed and he leaned forward, closing the distance between them, both of them sighing involuntarily when their lips finally met. Aziraphale clutched at Crowley’s waist, pulling him closer, their kiss quickly becoming more insistent and demanding. Crowley moaned against Aziraphale’s mouth, then pulled back suddenly, glancing towards the curtain Aziraphale had drawn across earlier.

“Wait... you said your shop manager is here...” Crowley pointed out breathlessly.

“Mmm. It’s all right, I asked her not to disturb us.”

“You... you did?” Crowley managed to ask before Aziraphale silenced any further questioning by capturing Crowley’s mouth in another kiss. Crowley cradled Aziraphale’s nape and grazed his thumb up and down over his hairline, shivering in response to Aziraphale’s soft moan of pleasure.

“It’s all right,” Aziraphale whispered when he pulled back, his eyes roaming hungrily over Crowley’s chest. “We just need to be quiet. That’s something we’re both very good at,” he joked.

“You don’t make it easy,” Crowley growled softly.

“Are you saying I make it hard?”

“Nhhhh....” Crowley groaned, burying his head in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, mumbling against his skin. “You act like an innocent angel but you’re not at all, are you? You were teasing me before; you do know what the water droplets emoji means, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure. Would you like to show me?” Aziraphale teased, planting a series of increasingly passionate kisses on Crowley’s lips.

“Ngghhh.”

“It’s all right; you don’t have to do anything. You can just let me take care of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kudos and comments! <3 This was supposed to be a very short thing but I got carried away... hope you enjoyed it! :-)
> 
> I do love the idea of them joining forces in the world of ASMR after this, so I think we can all assume that's what happens! ;-)
> 
> I think you've probably all seen the "David Tennant doesn't understand emojis" clip but just in case, here it is: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UztioBpKlRk
> 
> (EDIT - I can't leave this story alone so there will be a follow-up picking up where this left off, with a definite rating change! ;-))


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